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TRIALS 


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TRIUMPHS. 




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A. TREGO SHERTZER, M. D. 



1875 . 


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Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1875, 

By a. TREGO SHERTZER, M. D., 

In the Office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington, D. C. 


To mij mother, 


Jhis ^ork is JAost J^ESPECTFULLY PeDICATED, 


BY THE AUTHOR. 









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CHAPTER I. 


Now from the town, 

Buried in smoke, and sleep and noisome damps. 
Oft let me wander o’er the dewy fields. 

Where freshness breathes. — Thomson. 



$^ET US introduce you, gentle reader, to 
the little village of Churchville, con- 
taining probably a dozen buildings of 
an ordinary class, including a church, 
hotel, post-office, the traditional black- 
smith shop, and a school-house for 
the accommodation of the neighboring 
youth. Within the walls of this latter 
structure the old and young of both 
sexes frequently meet, if not on business, to see and 
be seen, and hear the general gossip of the neigh- 
borhood. It would be superfluous to observe that 
those who compose these friendly gatherings are of 
the class whose daily bread is earned by the sweat 
of their brows, the muscular, hard-handed and warm 
liearted yeomanry of the land, who though they 
may not possess an extensive store of the world’s 
goods, are owners of a stock of far greater value, 
and these are the traits of integrity, truth and 


6 


honesty, the characteristics of a loyal Christian peo- 
ple. The elder portion of the male population hear 
a strong resemblance to the old Puritan patriarchs, 
and if not engaged as traders or mechanics in the 
village, they contribute to the ranks of the sur- 
rounding country farmers, and to these belong the 
credit of supplying the masses of the land with 
cereals and the provender essential to both man and 
beast. Eeader, perchance you have never visited a 
farm, and observed how laborious are the duties of 
the husbandman, nor viewed his toil beneath the 
burning rays of the midday sun, and which to you 
would doubtless seem a systematic curse, a course 
of bootless penance. Were you one of a reflecting 
turn of mind, you would stand and profoundly 
wonder to see the farmer prepare his ground with 
plow and harrow, then sow his seed, all necessitating 
no small degree of manual labor, and at the close 
of which he must patiently wait a long and anxious 
season ere he can cut and house the products of 
the soil. 

Adjoining the village we have briefly described, 
lives farmer Sharp, the owner of an ordinary country 
house, yet with a fine and well stocked farm at- 
tached. He is regarded as a thrifty, hard working 
man, his family consisting only of a wife and one 
lad, his son Joseph, a bright-eyed boy of twelve 
years, with a pleasing address and habitual smile, 
who appears good naturedly ever ready to pursue 
tlie toils of the day, and if we watch him, will find 
he is first at the plow or harrow, anon feeding stock, 


7 


gathering stone, or cutting wood^ engaged in fac£ 
in all the varied duties required of a farm hand ; hut 
further, after a hard day’s work, we shall mark him, 
hook in hand, trying to master some knotty problem 
long after the other inmates of the humble dwelling 
have retired to rest. This is the accustomed prac- 
tice of the studious lad during the entire summer 
months, whilst on the day of rest, the church or 
Sunday-school only will attract him from his books, 
his constant companions. During the winter months 
our hero is the regular attendant of a country school, 
where he has no opportunity of acquiring the higher 
branches of learning, and we may well surmise he 
has but few short hours for study, having the farm 
stock to feed and many other incumbent duties to 
perform incidental to a country life. Joseph Sharp 
is, however, as will be hereafter acknowledged, no 
ordinary youth ; he is ambitious, and from a natural 
love to master his studies, soon places himself at the 
head of every class, though often sorely wounded 
with the unfeeling remarks of the elder portion of 
the village inhabitants. 

There is Joe Sharp,” they would say, an un- 
educated and ordinary farm boy, with a dictionary, 
a latin grammar, or some other book, walking about 
here with it in his pocket, and from the way he is 
studying, he is fool enough to believe he will one 
day become a great man, and ride about Churchville 
like Doctor F., or Lawyer A.” 

Was Joe intimidated by these surly observations ? 
No ; they caused, in truth, a more brilliant flame to 


8 


burn upon the altar of his ambition j he studied the 
more, devoting his spare time to the elucidation and 
solution of matters pertaining to natural philosophy 
and the classics. Thus it will ever be found that a 
course of unreasoning opposition, and the rude com- 
ments of the ignorant, beget in the spirited youth 
or man of mature age a proud and lofty determi- 
nation to conquer the petty prejudices of stupid 
humanity, and to plant the standard of merit, 
however humble or obscure, triumphant on every 
field. 

At the age of fourteen, through his unaided indi- 
vidual energies, Joseph Sharp had mastered his 
studies to that degree of perfection, that he was en- 
abled to be admitted into the county academy, 
located in Belair, where for the present we shall 
leave the brave lad, and direct the readers atten- 
tion to his antipode, Kobert Dull, a youth who, to Use 
the common expression, was born with a silver spoon 
in his mouthy and in this connection a slight digres- 
sion may not be inopportune. The useful article with 
which at table we sip our coffee or our tea, as the case 
may be, is unquestionably an indispensable addition 
to the comfort of the family circle, corresponding 
with Tupper’s baby, ‘^a well-spring of joy in every 
house. We have not the slightest disposition to 
dispute the fact, but yet, ‘^ye gods defend us,"' 
(though there may be exceptions, as it is said there 
is to all rules,) from the male infant who is ushered 
into the breathing world with a spoon — a silver spoon 
in his mouth. The advent of such a one is a common 


9 


calamity — another drone added to the great hive of 
human industry_, where space becomes every year 
more requisite for the industrious bee. The capital 
misfortune with these gentry, this class who ‘^toil 
not, neither do they spin,'' appears simply to be 
that they cannot be led to concede the great truth 
that the pernicious, debilitating tendencies of bodily 
pleasure, need to be counteracted by the invigorating 
exercises of bodily labor ; hence they are as a rule 
in every one's way until the grave-digger conceals 
them from view. 

Kobert Dull, at the period of our introduction, 
was but thirteen years of age, and the only son of a 
rich banker, whose flourishing farm and princely 
mansion immediately adjoined the lands of Mr. 
Sharp. The banker, as is the fatal error in the case 
of too many wealthy and over indulgent parents, had 
taught his son and heir to regard work as a disgrace, 
and those who labored for a living as beneath his 
notice ; and so apt was the future owner of the manor 
to heed these wretched teachings, that he considered 
it beneath his dignity or the exalted position of a 
banker's son, to hold converse with the farmer boys 
who were his only neighbors, and if addressed by one 
of them, would turn aside with haughty air, exclaim- 
ing to himself, ‘‘How dare that insolent plebeian 
speak to me." Being sent to a private school kept 
by Mr. A., some three miles from his father's man- 
sion, Kobert could be seen morning and evening 
galloping his fine mare called Topsey, and when 
enjoying this exercise, although he would frequently 


10 


encounter young Sharp and other lads upon the 
road, the proud youth would never fail to give loose 
rein to his favorite, and spur past them in silence. 

As the reader may desire to know something of 
the ancestors of Eohert Dull, we shall here honor 
them with a brief allusion. In early life his father 
was familiar with poverty, having been horn and 
partly raised in an humble shanty on the right bank 
of Deer Creek, but developing a fair share of business 
tact, was sent when a youth to Baltimore, and 
became a clerk in a leading banking-house, from 
which position in the course of years he was elevated 
to that of a partner in the firm. Eventually having 
married Miss E., a proud and haughty belle of his 
native county, their union was blessed with the 
boy Kobert, the subject of the foregoing sketch. The 
position of influence and wealth acquired by the 
banker in late years made his entire family rela- 
tionship consider themselves the elite of the neigh- 
borhood, and never failed to manifest by their actions 
and manners to all with whom they came in contact, 
their sense of self-importance. 

“ ’Tis au old maxim in the schools, 

That flattery ’s the food of fools.” 

And a bountiful repast of the article it may correctly 
be surmised awaited the rising generation of Dulls, 
when the head of the race became known as a mil- 
lionaire. Now, for the information of the unin- 
formed reader, the author would remark that there 
is a peculiar fruit believed to be almost if not quite 
indigenous to the soil of the Western hemisphere, 


11 


at least it is one of which our Eepuhlican orchards 
are singularly prolific, and it is known to naturalists 
as the genus Codfishata Aristocrata,^^ or codfish 
aristocracy — a hitter and unseemly looking fruit and 
invariably rotten at the core I Both love of mankind 
and respect for their rights are duties. The former, 
however, is only a conditional, whilst the latter is 
an unconditional, purely imperative duty, but yet 
with men of the class of our banker, it is a duty 
neither recognized nor performed; hence the less 
fortunate but more deserving ones with whom cir- 
cumstances compelled a temporary association^ were 
in all cases treated with that arrogant, supercilious 
air so prevalent with the would-be aristocrat, who 
forgets that he is, to a great extent, dependent upon 
the hewer of wood and drawer of water.’' 

Frequently a social gathering or party would be 
given in honor of Master Eobert, when the sons and 
daughters of Judge T., Lawyer A., Doctor H. and 
others would be invited to enjoy the festivities of 
the occasion, but the children of such men as farmer 
Sharp and his humble neighbors were made marked 
exceptions to such invitations ; and it was as well, 
for could these poor neglected ones have been present 
their ears would have tingled with such remarks as 
the annexed : What do you think. Miss A. or Mr. 
B. had the impudence to speak to me last Sunday 
at Church ; did you ever know anything like it ; 
what a pity that persons in their stations of life 
have not better sense ; they ought to know better 
than to address any but their own class,” and so 


12 


on. Whilst Master Robert laughs at the presump- 
tion of Joe Sharp in attending the Belair Academy, 
and is heard to say, ‘‘He is fool enough to imagine 
that he can graduate from that institution and re- 
ceive some good appointment, and be admitted into 
society;'' adding, “he will soon be thrown out of 
the academy, and then he will have to return to his 
father's old farm. Just wait until I get there; I 
will make it hot for him, and he will only be too 
glad to leave, and then he will learn his proper 
station." 

How different would have been the language of 
the envious and presumptuous youth, could he have 
foreseen the future ; for in his coming rivalry with 
the brave ambitious farmer's boy he was to realize 
that a dull boy (or man) is so near a dead man, that 
he is hardly to be ranked in the list of the living ; 
and as he is not to be buried whilst he is half alive, 
so he is not to be employed whilst he is half dead. 

We are now to record the entree of Master Robert 
Dull into the well-known academy of Belair, which 
took place the first of September, the commencement 
of the regular term ; but previous however to enter- 
ing upon an academical life he engaged his leisure 
moments in a series of calls, never failing to make 
poor Joe, whose name has already been placed on 
the list of academy students, appear in a ridiculous 
light, if possible, to effect that object. Wherever 
he goes, even to the village-store, though Joe Sharp 
may be present to hear his abuse, he scornfully 
ridicules the idea of his daring to compete in his 


13 


studies with one of the elite, a gentleman ^s son, a 
banker’s son ; and it is to be regretted that in this 
systematic course of defamation, the youth would at 
times enlist the co-operation of the more ignorant 
villagers, who had insensibly adopted a feeling of 
jealousy of our hero, on account of his progress and 
worthy ambition ; and as he quietly withdraws from 
the presence of his enemies, calls are made after him 
to return and make them a speech, or inform them 
what he intends to study and so on. 

As we have stated, some of Joseph’s former com- 
panions and pretended friends, in imitation of the 
brethren of his great namesake of Israel, have 
grown jealous of his superior qualities, and basely 
adopted Kobert Dull as their leader, endorsing his 
bitter denunciations of the youthful farmer, and he 
is consequently reduced to the necessity of commun- 
ing with his own thoughts, his most intimate asso- 
ciates having addicted themselves to the prevalent 
fashion of making sport of his noble ambition. 
This course of unworthy treatment, however, stim- 
ulates him the more eagerly to prosecute his studies, 
being determined not to relinquish the aspirations 
which fill his inmost heart, and which even his 
immature judgment convince him must eventually 
triumph ; and moved also with the conviction that 
to abandon now his position of eminence, would be 
to gratify the malignant enmity of his antagonists. 
Hence he is inspired with a renewed resolution to 
entertain no such word as fail, and to place oi^posi- 
tioii beneath his feet. Furthermore, not a murmur 
2 


14 


of complaint escapes tlie lips of the brave lad, for his 
heart is filled with the true spirit of manliness, his 
chief object appearing to be to offend no one, rea- 
soning within himself that kind words are never 

O 

forgotten, and perhaps cheer in their remembrance 
a long, sad existence, whilst those of careless cruelty 
are like wounds in the bosom, leaving scars that 
may be borne to the grave. 

There exists in human nature a disposition to 
murmur at tlie calamities and disappointments inci- 
dent to life, rather than to acknowledge with grat- 
itude the blessings by which they are more than 
counterbalanced. He is a great self-poised character 
whom praise unnerves ; he is a still greater one who 
supports unjust censure ; but greater again is he 
who, with acknowledged powers, represses his envy 
and turns to use undeserved censure. There is 
nothing purer than honesty ; nothing warmer than 
love ; nothing more bright than virtue ; nothing 
more steadfast than faith ! These united in one 
mind form the purest, the sweetest, the richest, the 
brightest, the holiest, the most steadfast happiness. 
The noble traits recited above were well combined 
in the character of J oseph Sharp, and he had also 
learned in the severe school of life young as he was, 
that the wisdom of a poor man goes but little ways, 
while the loquacity of a rich fool carries everything 
before it, and impressed with this salutary knowl- 
edge, his gentle nature freely forgave the enmity of 
the banker’s son. 

How many in this world overlook the stern fact 


15 


that we are depending upon one another, that from 
the cradle to the grave we cannot exist without 
mutual help, and tliat the race of mankind would 
perish from the earth did they cease to aid each 
other ; and, therefore, with this admission all who 
need assistance have a right to ask it from their 
fellow-beings, and no one who holds the power of 
granting it can refuse it without mortal guilt ! 

Joe fought hard against temper; he resisted it 
stoutly, for, as he reasoned with himself, ‘‘a fit of 
passion may cause me to inourn all the days of my 
life, and it is better I should never revenge an 
injury.” To remember a foul injury is ofttimes pru- 
dent, but to cultivate revenge unchristian-like and 
foolish, or, as we have heard it well expressed, ‘‘I 
will not be revenged, and this I owe to my enemy ; 
hut I will remember, and this I owe to myself.” 

He that revengcth knows no rest; 

The meek possess a peaceful breast. 

Water falling day by day 

Wears the hardest rock away. 


CHAPTER II. 


QJ Q 

HE time has now arrived when these 
two lads, so dissimilar in character, 
are to enter upon their first term at 
the academy. No word of complaint 
has yet escaped the lips of Joseph 
Sharp, though he well knows the idle 
gossips around his native village have 
never ceased to denounce his under- 
taking, and in addition have freely 
circulated all manner of reports to the effect that his 
name had been erased from the list of students. 
Being a prudent youth he has wisely kept his own 
council, and borne their slurs and falsehoods with 
silent patience, asking only the Grod of justice to aid 
him in his efforts, and with the daily prayer that 
he might he enabled after the completion of his 
studies to convince his many enemies that his laud- 
able ambition had been crowned with success, and 
the highest honors awarded his exertions. The 
country appeared bright and beautiful in its summer 
garb, and the birds were busy warbling their joyous 
notes on that lovely opening day of autumn, when 
the rival youths, mounted on their good steeds, ap- 



IT 


proached by different roads the county metropolis, 
and, after entering its streets, found grouped around 
their future theatre of action — the academy — a for- 
midable number of young men and lads, who were 
hailing each other with humor and song ; and as 
many of them have not met during their vacation, 
it may be surmised they renew the old acquaintance 
with the hearty grip of congratulation only known 
to school-boys, expressing meanwhile in their bois- 
terous manner the gratification of spending another 
fall and winter term together. Here and there can 
be seen a kind father or fond mother, driving up to 
the institution with a hopeful scion, and introducing 
him to the professors and those of the students they 
may chance to know. Undoubtedly in this busy 
assemblage there were those who in former days 
had been accustomed to encounter each other in the 
manner of our copper-colored warriors of the West, 
with the war-paint upon their faces and with all the 
intensity of boyish dislike for a successful rival. 
Yet, as absence conquers love (though our fair 
friends will not adrnit it), so it will dissipate in 
youthful breasts many a festering sore that once 
threatened to be a standing grievance, and our 
future Presidents having happily buried the hatchet, 
with commendable wisdom arrived at the conclu- 
sion that when you bury animosity, do not set up a 
stone over its grave ! Kobert Dull found many of 
his late fellow-students and acquaintances in the 
throng, and for the present we shall leave him bus- 
ily engaged in interchanging friendlv remarks. 

2 * 


18 


As the students are all collected in the academy 
enclosure eagerly conversing, Joe Sharp, with his 
customary benignant smile, makes his entry on the 
scene, j)oliteiy bowing to the boys though a stranger 
to them all, and passes on to the hall of learning. 
Here, with wonted manliness, he wends his way with 
cheerful step to the Principal of the academy and in- 
troduces himself, being in turn introduced to the 
remaining professors, an act of courtesy, by the way, 
entirely overlooked by Dull and the others who are 
about commencing their academical life. This act, 
as might be expected, left a favorable impression at 
once in the minds of the faculty, who unanimously 
wished him success in his new career, and with the 
insight natural to experienced men, in private agreed 
that our hero had the bearing of one who in future 
days would in all probability become a useful sup- 
port, and not a pernicious incumbrance to society. 

As Joe, after his introduction to his teachers, 
loitered among the group of scholars collected out- 
side, he distinctly heard the tones of the arrogant 
Dull addressing a companion thus : ‘‘ Ha ! that fool 
of a country clodhopper had better go back to his 
father’s farm, where he belongs, and not make such 
an ass of himself as to come here and try to get 
brains put into his head.” 

Poor Joe, who had thoroughly acquired the gift 
of forbearance, did not however pay the lefist notice 
to the contemptuous remark, and passed on without 
uttering a word, fully as determined to preserve a 
policy of dignified silence as was his antagonist to 


19 


take advantage of the opening of the term to preju- 
dice the minds of his fellow students against the 
unoffending youth, and by strewing his path with 
harassing annoyances, force him eventually to 
abandon the field of his studies. There is beauty 
enough on earth to make a home for angels. ; and yet, 
oh ! do we not daily realize that the perverse passions 
and ill-nature of men and even of youth, blindly, 
aye, willfully, transform Elysium into Hades ; and 
amongst the evil traits thus warring against the gen- 
eral happiness which should otherwise prevail, where 
are the equals, in their baleful influence, of envy and 
arrogant pride? The former, in the language of 
Ovid, feeds upon the living, and it is only after 
death that every man’s well-earned honors defend 
him against calumny and the wretched owner of 
purse-proud arrogance, though alive to the fact that 
the greatest of monarchs must at length go to bed 
with a shovel, will yet continue to crush the unfortu- 
nate heir of poverty into the earth, regardless of the 
doom pronounced against the rich man. 

It is by no means complimentary to our hauglity 
owners of bank stocks and princely estates, that they 
should possess less penetration than the rooster in 
the fable, who spurned the diamond and wished for 
the barley-corn, it being understood that in the age 
of acorns, antecedent to Ceres and the royal piough- 
man, a single barley-corn was of more value to 
mankind, or the feathered race, than all the dia- 
monds that glowed in the mines of India. Thus, 
to a sagacious individual of wealth, the living grain 


20 


represented by the poor man, if he he honest and 
intelligent, is of more inestimable value than piles 
of glittering metal — a substance which cannot he 
conveyed beyond the portals of the tomb. 

Let us now return to a review of the movements 
of our juvenile friends. As usual on the opening 
day of the session, all was hustle and confusion, 
little else being done than reading and assigning the 
morrow’s lessons, and these chiefly consisted of spell- 
ing and definitions, Joseph appearing more than 
usually meditative on the morning of re-assembling, 
his thoughts being occupied with the importance of 
this commencement of an era which was to fore- 
shadow future success, or in case of failure, blighted 
prospects forever. It appeared that the brains of 
the young students had not been much exercised on 
the subject of orthography, for when the tutor gave 
out tlie word anthropology, it traveled down the 
entire class unsuccessfully until reaching Joseph, he 
mastered it without hesitation, and as he walked 
past Eobert Dull to assume the head of the class, he 
plainly observed an expression of withering hatred 
upon the countenance of that hopeful competitor, 
whilst good nature was stamped on the faces of the 
other lads. Inspired with this early success, our 
hero, through close application, continued to main- 
tain his position, winning withal, through his kind 
and gentle disposition, the respect and confidence 
of his fellow students, a fact that served to incite 
still greater animosity in the breast of Eobert Dull, 
and it was manifest in his looks and actions on all 


21 


occasions when its display could be rendered most 
conspicuous. However, the unwelcome truth was 
becoming more and more evident to the upstart pre- 
tender that his airs of self-importance were waning 
in their influence with the students of Belair acad- 
emy ; and what was a still more obnoxious pill to 
swallow, was the admission which he was reluc- 
tantly compelled to make, that he was intellectually 
inferior to Joe Sharp, and that in a competitive 
examination he would experience an inglorious 
defeat. He began in fact to realize the truism, 
immature and narrow minded as were his faculties, 
that ^ ‘ worth has been underrated ever since wealth 
has been over valued. 

Amongst the enemies of poor Joe in his native 
village, was a Doctor H., a young man who had just 
commenced the practice of medicine, and who, with 
a pompous air, had predicted an utter failure for 
the farmer’s son at the academy. As an offset, 
however, to this prediction. Doctor E., a kind, genial 
old gentleman, residing in Belair, claimed for young 
Sharp a distinguished future, and as an endorsement 
of the good opinion, Mr. H., a well-known advocate 
residing in the same town, manifested a fatherly 
interest in the youth, and when occasion offered, 
would aid him with his advice. Beyond question 
the ambition to rise in life, together with a host of 
superior qualities, had gained considerable notoriety 
for the child of the humble farmer throughout the 
county, and his career as a student had excited un- 
usual interest and was narrowly observed by friends 


22 


and foes. Having elicited from the first the favorable 
opinion of his teachers, he had also, as time wore on^ 
drawn to his person the sympathies and respect of 
very many of his brother students, whose original 
welcome was one of contumely and insult. In the 
academy at the date of these events, were a number 
of older and well-bred youths, sons of influential 
families, and amongst others who kindly rendered 
our hero assistance whenever required, were Wrn. 
P. Dorsey, now assistant Professor at West Point, 
and Win. Seton, a prominent member of the 
Harford county bar. In contrast to the involuntary 
social good feeling which the action of Joe elicited, 
was the reserve and distance preserved toward Dull, 
owing to the repelling influence of his proud and 
imperious nature, hence his friends were few, and 
he was frequently left to study alone. 

Close to the seat of learning was a young ladies ’ 
seminary, under charge of the Misses T., and pos- 
sessing a wide-spread reputation it was largely 
attended by the young ladies of Harford and adjoin- 
ing counties. The rules of both institutions were 
rigidly enforced, one of which strictly prohibited the 
young ladies and gentlemen from visiting or speak- 
ing, consequently there was but little opportunity 
for forming acquaintance, yet as both sexes were 
affected with the weakness so peculiar to our nature, 
that of sociability, they would frequently meet, acci- 
dentally of course. 

Through the intervention of an estimable old lady, 
Mrs. Belgrade, a neighbor of his father’s, Joe was 


23 


permitted to keep liis steed in the stables belonging 
to the seminary. He became thereby enabled to hold 
a brief chat with some of the lively and charming 
young inmates of the establishment, and ere long 
became, from the advantage of his position, an im- 
provised mail-carrier, being frequently the recipient 
of a host of epistles from the young ladies to their 
admirers, and naturally charged with the same duty 
by the latter ; and through this channel our hero 
was not only making himself of importance, but en- 
hancing his popularity with both sexes ; and in truth, 
his movements before and after school hours were 
regarded with a flutter of expectation, especially on 
the part of the ladies (we hope our fair readers will 
excuse this exception in their behalf,) that was quite 
amusing, and the ears of the youth became soon 
quite familiarized with such expressions as : Bless 
your dear soul,’" or Dear Joe, I have been waiting 
for you this hour,” or ‘‘You precious jewel, I thought 
you never would get here,” or “ Ain’t he kind — the 
sweetest young man I know,” and, many other en- 
dearing terms peculiar to the daughters of Eve. 

“’Tis true his nature may with faults abound, 

But who will cavil when the heart is sound ? ” 

And how is it possible for the gentle reader to 
reproach poor Joe, if in this mass of lively maidens, 
this parterre of lovely human flowers, he became at 
length entangled in the meshes of that all powerful 
passion, love? Among the most fascinating of our 
lady friends was a beautiful blonde, in her sixteenth 
year, a daughter of Judge A., one of the most aristo- 


24 


cratic gentlemen of Harford. Yet, as the course of 
true love never did run smooth,’’ our hero’s suit 
proved no exception to the rule. Young Sharp plead 
his case with all the eloquence of a veteran advocate, 
but Miss Lillie was inexorable. She would cheer- 
fully enrol herself among his friends, but beyond 
that he must cease to regard her, and to assure liim- 
self now and ever after that their widely different 
station in the scale of social life presented an im- 
passible barrier to any relations more endearing than 
one of ordinary friendship. These sentiments of 
the haughty beauty, delivered in a tone of cold 
decision, which left no room to doubt their earnest 
sincerity, filled for a season the frank, warm heart 
of the young student with a chilling sensation of 
despair ; yet he strove gallantly to suppress his mor- 
tification and wounded pride at the rejection of his 
suit, trusting in his inexperience and in the san- 
guine views ever nourished in the spring time of our 
existence, that time would effect miracles, and that 
when he should be prepared to assume his position 
among men in the great contest of life, the heart of 
his loved one would become more tractable, and that 
she would then regard his ardent admiration in a 
more favorable light. 

“ While yet a child, and long before his time, 

He had perceived the presence and the power 
Of greatness.” 

And in these lines of Wordsworth the reader will 
discover the key-note to all the springs of action in 
the career of Joseph Sharp, His observation and 


25 


his reading had revealed beyond successful contra- 
diction that the presence and power of greatness ’’ 
inevitably commanded compliance with one’s wishes 
and aspirations ; that influence and power must be 
attained through worldly wealth, or the display of 
intellectual qualities which would insure exalted 
station, and to attain the full fruition of his hopes, 
that he must strive with a degree of daring ambition 
hitherto unknown to him, to rise above the disad- 
vantages of humble lineage and irksome poverty ; 
and not only this, his ardent spirit and brave heart 
rebelled at the mere thought of failure, and the 
malicious sneers that were sure to follow him in 
the event of non-success. The young student was 
not insensible to the dijfficulties surrounding his 
pursuit of Miss Ardenne, and amongst others, the 
probability of encountering formidable rivals in the 
wealthy and influential gentry of the neighborhood 
who were constant visitors at the residence of the 
Judge, her father; and as she was the only child 
and the heiress of an immense estate, Lillie Ardenne 
could not be supposed to have escaped the terms of 
adulation to which the favored child of fortune is 
ever exposed. But besides the advantages of birth 
and social position inherited by the object of J oseph 
Sharp’s admiration, she was possessed of those per- 
sonal attractions so irresistible in the eyes of most 
men. With a tall and graceful figure she united a 
superb complexion, extremely expressive eyes of 
cliarming blue, over-shadowed with drooping lashes, 
and a melodious voice that thrilled all those within 
3 


26 


its sound ; and were it not for a certain habitual air 
of disdain with which she regarded those whom she 
considered her inferiors, hut few could have resisted 
according her the homage of their love. But in com- 
mon with too many spoiled beauties, the subject of 
these lines had substituted formal good manners for 
hearty good nature, and as is usual in such cases, 
the sensible of both sexes are weaned from any 
further cultivation of the acquaintance. Had Lillie 
possessed more softness of heart, or a greater dread 
of rivalry in her lady friends, doubtless she would 
have proved more accessible to the attentions of the 
gentlemen, for not only were there a score or two of 
marriageable girls in the vicinity, many of whom 
would have proved very eligible matches, but there 
were also many spinsters of forty years and upwards, 
who, remembering that while life lasts there is hope, 
were not wholly in despair ; but pluming herself as 
elevated above the claims of any one rival, she 
chose rather to be indifferent to all, hence the proud 
girl continued to be content with idle flattery on 
the one hand, and cold respect upon the other, 
unaware perhaps, that many people are esteemed 
merely because they are not known. 


CHAPTER III. 


I still had hopes, for pride attends us still, 

Amidst the swains to show my book-learned skill, 
Around my fire an evening group to draw, 

And tell of all I felt, and all I saw. 



WO years have passed since the events 
recorded in our last chapter, and the 
student, although he frequently met 
with Miss Arden ne at church and 
elsewhere, had as yet failed in all his 
efforts to win the heiress from her tone 
of calm indifference. The period of 
his academical life was now drawing 
to a close, and as the final examina- 
tion progressed, it was manifest to all that Joseph 
had been a close student, as he mastered with ease 
the many difficult problems which he was called 
upon to solve, and graduated with distinguished 
honor, whilst his rival, Kobert Dull, was on the 
verge of failure had it not been for timely assistance 
rendered him by an intimate associate. And now, 
having ended their career in Belair, they returned 
to their homes to enjoy a brief vacation and arrange 
plans for an unknown future. Possibly they enter- 
tained a species of boyish regret at parting with 


28 


familiar scenes and the friends endeared to them 
hy a four years’ companionship, yet youth is vola- 
tile and we may safely affirm 

“ Their souls are ready to depart — 

No thought rebels ; the obedient heart 
Breathes forth no sigh.” 

And we have equally to affirm that even now, that 
Joe has reached his father’s farm with a well-earned 
diploma, his ancient enemies of the village, true to 
their original animosity, claim that surely there 
must have been some mistake in the report of his 
having graduated with such credit to himself, and 
to add as it were a certain emphasis to this wretched 
gossip, would address him on the country roads as 
Professor, Judge Sharp, and in other ironical terms. 
All this pertinacious and idle emnity was however 
passed unheeded hy their victim, the equanimity of 
whose disposition was not at all disturbed, and who 
felt with a glow of honest pride that he whose tal- 
ents had been publicly recognized by a superior 
authority, could afford to look down with disdain 
upon ignorant foes. 

As man or youth advances in life he becomes less 
and less identified with surrounding associations, 
and as he begins to have a glimpse of the limit of 
his journey, his thoughts revert to the checkered 
scenes through which he has passed, and is consoled 
with the knowledge that they have already been 
encountered and can no longer annoy him. In this 
retrospect, circumstances, whether of danger, trial, 
or happiness, are regarded alike, not indeed with 


29 


indifference, but with that feeling of security which 
notliing but a triumph over ]Dast vicissitudes could 
produce. Hence, the weary pilgrim of life lingers 
over the memory of the past, and is so far selfish in 
his enjoyments, that he neither expects nor receives 
the sympathy of those around him. If distance 
lends enchantment to the uncertain future of his 
youth, objects beheld through the vista of the past, 
by a wise provision of nature, lose but little of their 
former freshness, and whilst passing incidents are 
speedily forgotten amidst the accumulated cares of 
age, the scenes and impressions of early life are re- 
membered with promptness and precision, and often 
form the chief topic both of thought and conversa- 
tion, as if to draw the mind off from the cares, ills, 
and infelicities that press upon it. This is a theme 
endeared to us by a thousand interesting associa- 
tions, the scene of so many trying events in our • 
youthful days. The period under consideration is 
also important in another respect. A new character 
was developing itself in the minds of Kobert and 
Joseph, with all the obligations of providing for 
their self-government, and of cultivating the re- 
sources which nature had so bountifully extended to 
them. Some weeks after his arrival at home, our 
hero was surprised one morning at the reception of 
the following brief note from a medical friend of the 
family : 

Philadelphia, July 2, 18 — . 

Mr. Joseph Sharp: 

Dear Sir — If you will call upon me at once, I will be able to 
give you a good position in my hospital, where you will have a 

3 * 


30 


chance to study medicine, with ample time to attend medical 
lectures this winter. Do not come until you have consulted 
your father, and decided that you should like the profession. 
Let me hear from you at once. 

Truly, your friend, 

Dr. II D. 

It is needless to remark that Joseph was over- 
joyed on receiving the above lines, for he had longed 
to study medicine, and upon receiving a ready assent 
to do so from his indulgent father, he at once wrote 
the annexed reply : 

CnuRCHViLLE, July 7, 18—. 

Dr. H . 

My Kind Friend — Your very acceptable favor 2d inst. at hand, 
with many thanks for the honor conferred. I have father’s per- 
mission and will leave, in the steamer from Baltimore, to-morrow 
at 3 P. M. In accepting your kind offer, I promise strict obe- 
dience and close application to my duties. 

I am, dear sir, truly yours, 

Joseph Sharp. 

The ambitious youth at once commenced prepar- 
ing for his new field of duty, feeling greatly elated 
at his good fortune, and picturing to himself the 
bright future that he did not for an instant doubt 
awaited him. Promptly at the hour announced for 
the departure of the steamer the student ascended 
the gangway, passing at once into the cabin, to rest 
and refresh himself after the tiresome and dusty 
summer trip from his native Harford. Buried in 
pleasing meditations on the new career now opening 
before him it was long ere his gaze rested upon the 
countenances of his fellow-passengers, and the reader 
can more correctly imagine than describe the min- 
gled sensation of surprise, of pain and pleasure, 


31 


with which those eyes were dazzled in beholding 
the lovely image of Lillie Ardenne. It was indeed 
the imperious yet charming belle of Harford whose 
form reclined upon a lounge but a few feet distant 
from our hero. If she had known of his presence 
heretofore Miss Ardenne did not discover the cir- 
cumstance in her reception as with prompt courtesy 
he arose to salute the fair girl. 

This is indeed an unlooked for pleasure,-’ said 
the student, as he extended his hand. 

^‘I have been enjoying a brief season in the city, 
Mr. Sharp,” was the reply, with a slight inclination 
of the head, and am now on my way to visit some 
of father’s relatives in the city of Philadelphia.” 

As I shall for some months be a resident of that 
metropolis, I trust to have the honor of an early 
call upon Miss Ardenne.” 

^^As you please, Mr. Sharp, and my present 
direction will be Hon. George Campbell, Clinton 
Place.” 

To one of a less sanguine temperament, the non- 
chalance and tone of frigid coolness that character- 
ized the language of Miss Ardenne, would have 
suggested a final farewell to the most distant hope 
of securing a return to any warmer sentiment than 
lanquid esteem, but Joseph Sharp was not thus to 
be dismayed. His deep-rooted attachment might 
be termed one of an aggressive character, and 
guided by such impulses, he determined upon an- 
other, should it even prove a final and unsuccessful, 
assault upon the strong citadel of her affections. 


32 


1 shall avail myself of the honor you permit me 
to enjoy at the earliest opjDortunity, which Avill he 
to-morrow evening/' remarked the student, as on 
landing he handed Lillie to a carriage in waiting, and 
bidding her adieu, traced his way to the institution 
in charge of his new found friend and patron, who, 
on his entrance greeted him with a cordial welcome. 
The routine of hospital life, uninteresting and repul- 
sive as the daily round may appear to the majority 
of readers, possessed for Joseph Sharp a singular 
attraction ; for was it not upon this field that the 
j)rimary victories in the great struggle that was to 
insure him eminence in the future were to he ob- 
tained? Was it not within these walls that the 
corner-stone of future greatness, of cherished hopes 
so long entertained, was to be laid ? Here was to be 
developed that natural genius, that inclination to 
untiring labor, that spirit of laudable ambition, 
which, at the close of a mortal career, would entitle 
him to the poet's praise: 

“ Lives of great men all remind us 
We may make our lives sublime, 

And departing, leave behind us 
Foot-prints in the sands of lime.” 

It was well for the student that his buoyant na- 
ture and lofty aspirations kept pace with the inten- 
sity of his passion for the judge’s daughter, for in 
the very commencement of his city life he was 
destined to encounter one of those rude shocks so 
well calculated in inferior minds to destroy the 
fond anticipations of youthful dreams. Cherishing, 


33 


althoiigli somewliat at variance with his better 
judgment, bright visions of happy moments with 
the fair one who had so disturbed his equanimity 
on former occasions, he repaired on the second 
evening of his arrival to the stately mansion in 
Clinton Place, and inquiring for Miss Ardenne, he 
was ushered into a sumptuous apartment, furnished 
with all that modern taste and elegance could sug- 
gest, and brilliant with the light afforded by a 
princely chandelier. Laying the small volume 
which she had been listlessly perusing on the centre- 
table, Lillie Ardenne arose with a scarcely percepti- 
ble look of recognition to greet her visitor, and 
motioning to a seat, sank with an air of ennui upon 
a lounge placed near the bay-window of the parlor. 
The youthful admirer, with that frank sincerity 
ever commendable, albeit not in unison with the 
flimsy formality of modern usage_, entered upon the 
conversation with the smiling remark : 

I have presumed. Miss Lillie, if I may dare ad- 
dress you in the familiar terms of other days, to 
seek this early renewal of an acquaintance that I 
regard as among the happiest mementoes of my 
boyhood, trusting it may not interfere with prior 
engagements or the pleasure you have promised 
yourself during your stay in the city.'' 

My gentlemen acquaintance, recent or other- 
wise, are always welcome, Mr. Sharp." 

May I claim then to hope," renewed the young 
man, whilst a rising color suffused his countenance, 
that the sentiments once expressed, and the hum- 


34 


ble attentions so gladly bestowed may not, at the 
present day, be found unworthy the acceptance 
and regard of one whom I have never ceased to 
admire/’ 

A painful pause succeeded this frank avowal, 
during which the heart of the student throbbed 
violently, but the suspense was of brief duration. 

Mr. Sharp,” slowly replied the haughty girl, 
raising slightly from the half recumbent posture 
she had chosen up to this moment, and as she pro- 
ceeded a derisive smile marred her handsome fea- 
tures, during the brief stay I propose to myself in 
this city, I shall have neither leisure, nor, I must 
peremptorily add, inclination for the cultivation of 
the sentiments you would advance, and of which 
you naturally wish a return ; yet, as a lady, and 
without desiring to be abrupt, you will pardon the 
repetition of the assertion once candidly made you, 
that your station does not warrant urging upon one 
in my sphere of life any closer intimacy than you 
already enjoy. This is my irrevocable decision, and 
if it be your desire to oppose it, it remains only for 
Miss Ardenne to request a cessation of your visits.” 

Without the courtesy of an adieu, the aristocratic 
and imperious maiden swept from the apartment, 
leaving the aspirant for her hand speechless and 
with a keen sense of humiliation to make a farewell 
exit from the mansion, and thus rudely, yet happily, 
as the sequel will discover, terminated the first essay 
of J oseph Sharp in the dangerous but ever exciting 
field of love. 


CHAPTER IV. 


“ Vows made in storms are forgotten in calms.” 



the morning after the rejection of 
j his suit by Lillie Ardenne, our hero 
[arose betimes, his heart imbued with 
; the conviction so forcibly impressed 
I upon all in their pilgrimage of life, 
that the brightest dreams awaken to 
^the darkest realities, yet with the con- 
^ soling reflection as he pondered the 
subject in his breast, that silks and 
satins put out the kitchen fire, and that in this final 
separation from a fascinating but unworthy idol, ‘ 
from one who could thus haughtily and unmerci- 
fully discard a generous, though perchance a pre- 
mature attachment, he was hut escaping an ominous 
cloud that would have overshadowed his entire 
future, enervating and finally destroying every 
noble attribute of his being, and reducing him to 
the unenviable position of a mere follower at the 
heels of fashion, or the sham pretenders whose only 
tolerance in society was founded upon their display 
of a brilliant equipage, or a formidable array of 
unpaid tailor's bills. The dissipation of his recent 


36 


views resulted also in this advantage, that he was 
left undisturbed to prosecute his medical investiga- 
tions, and so devotedly did he enter upon this pur- 
suit, that in very few months the physicians in 
attendance pronounced him a most apt and promis- 
ing student, and in confirmation of this favorable 
opinion of his merits, he was more than once left in 
charge of the hospital in the absence of the resident 
physician. On these occasions, through his amenity 
of manner in receiving visitors and friends of the 
inmates, he acquired a degree of popularity, 
eventually ripening into friendly and intimate rela- 
tions with prominent citizens, whose influence in 
his behalf could not be otherwise than advantageous, 
and what was of equal importance, the privilege 
thus acquired of visiting and mingling in reputable 
society was invaluable, as it led insensibly to a pol- 
ished and refined demeanor, to which otherwise he 
might have remained a stranger for many years. 
Being considered sufficiently advanced in his studies, 
it was now determined to initiate Joseph into certain 
disagreeable but incumbently necessary mysteries 
connected with his new profession, and accordingly 
taking advantage of a dark and stormy evening, 
when the earth seemed shaken to its centre with the 
rattling peals of thunder, he was introduced to the 
cemetery at the lower end of the hospital grounds. 
Descending into a gloomy vault and closing the 
door behind them, his companions now lit their lan- 
terns, and raising a corpse from one of the many 
receptacles of the dead that were ranged on the 


37 

shelves of the charnel house^ they commenced the 
work of dissection. 

The reader may correctly imagine that in the 
midst of this revolting operation and with such 
surroundings, the hairs of Joseph Sharp’s head, in 
ordinary phrase, stood on end,” while the young 
blood in his veins nearly froze in its course, and he 
felt perfectly unable to command the wonted will of 
his rigid muscles. But let it not be supposed that 
this trying ordeal disheartened our hero, for after 
fully recovering from the primary shock, he pursued 
the course of his medical studies with more deter- 
mination than ever. 

For a brief period it now becomes our duty to 
scan the movements of Robert Dull immediately 
subsequent to his return from Belair. Since that 
era liis life had been one of perfect idleness, until 
the following winter, when he determined to study 
medicine at the University of Maryland. He had 
not forgotten however meanwhile to indulge in his 
usual defamatory remarks of the farmer’s son, of 
wliom he observed after ascertaining his good for- 
tune in procuring position in Philadelphia, that it 
was a disgrace one of his menial condition ^nould 
be installed in so responsible a berth, fading that 
he would doubtless soon be discharged and sent 
back in dishonor to his native village. 

It is the nature of the human disposition,” says 
Tacitus, ^^to hate him whom you have injured.” 
Hence this insolent, imperious youth, after he had 
detracted in every way possible for a series of years 
4 


38 


from the character of his unoffending neighbor, now 
hated him with a keener relish than in the days 
when his natural ability made him not only a suc- 
cessful competitor, but his peer and his superior. 

Such are the vicissitudes of the world that day 
and night, labor and rest, hurry and retirement, 
endear each other. Such are the changes that keep 
the mind in action. We desire, we pursue, we ob- 
tain, we are satiated ; we desire something else, and 
begin a new pursuit. 

Although Joseph was well contented where he 
was, and had never expressed a wish to change, yet 
when at the expiration of many months, and with 
the credit of being well posted in the theory and 
practice of medicine, although not having attended a 
regular course of lectures, he heard with all the wild 
delight of youthful enthusiasm that he had received 
the appointment of medical officer in charge of the 
United States Steamer Mary Sanford, of the South 
Atlantic Blockading Squadron, then stationed at 
Charleston, S. C. The ambitious and rising stu- 
dent was now to he confined to a man-of-war, hun- 
dreds of miles from liis native home, and amongst 
entire strangers, yet it was gratifying to convey with 
him the annexed letter : 

Philadelphia, March 11, 18 — . 
Capt. Kempton, Commanding U. S. Dispatch Steamer Mary 

Sanford, S, A. Blockading Squadron : 

Dear /StV^Tliis will be haaclecl you by Mr. Joseph Sharp, who 
has been receutly appointed Medical Oflicer in charge of your 
vessel. He is well known to me, and I entertain for him the 
kindest feelings, as likewise does your sister and my family. 


39 


Hoping you will take him under your special care, as he is 
young and inexperienced in naval life, 

I am sir, very truly, yours, 

Peter Turner, 
Commodore U. 8. Navy, 

The Commodore and Captain Kempton being inti- 
mate personal friends, this letter was of infinite 
value to Sharp, for on his arrival in the fleet and 
reporting to Captain K., he received at once a very 
friendly greeting, assigning him quarters in his 
private cabin ; and as is usual in such cases this 
marked attention on the part of the commanding 
officer elicited similar favors from his subordinates, 
so that our student was speedily at home in the 
novel position in which he now found himself. The 
Mary Sanford being a despatch steamer, and con- 
stantly plying from Charleston to Port Koyal, St. 
John’s, Key West, New Orleans, and Havana, 
Joseph formed naturally many new acquaintances, 
and, through his gentlemanly deportment and close 
attention to duty, soon won the respect of the entire 
fleet, one trifling incident alone occurring to mar 
his satisfaction or wound his feelings whilst attached 
to the vessel. Several officers had invited him to 
accompany them on a Sunday morning visit to Hil- 
ton Head, to which the Captain made no objection, 
offering to play the part of the ship’s doctor himself 
for the day. Sharp had not quite finished his round 
among the sick, when a boat was lowered alongside 
and announced as ready to cast off ; hut it appeared 
that Lieutenant Owens, who had been recently pro- 
moted and was acting officer of the day, thought 


40 


proper to object to the departure of the Doctor, and 
ordered him to his room. His feelings were natur- 
ally wounded at this harsh opposition, yet he hes- 
itated to disobey, when casting a glance at those in 
the boat and recognizing the executive officer of the 
ship, who beckoned him to come off, he made a rapid 
move forward and going over the ship’s side seated 
himself with the rest, despite the threats of the 
Lieutenant to have him ‘ ^ court-martialed ’ ’ for dis- 
obedience of orders. Joseph was reported to the 
Captain, but on his return the representations of 
the chief officer and others exonerated him from 
blame, and the commander simply warned him to 
have as little as possible to do with Lieutenant 
Owens, who was one of those selfish tyrannical men 
who bring discredit on the service. One of the party 
on the above occasion was the engineer, Alvin Odell, 
or as he was generally termed, Comic Joe,” a sur- 
vivor of Kane’s well-known expedition. ‘‘Joe” 
was a dry genius, yet full of humor, and the life of 
the ship. Unfortunately, however, like too many 
good-natured fellows, he would put an “enemy in 
his mouth to steal away his brains,” and like thou- 
sands of our race was amenable to the strictures of 
Sir Walter Kaleigh — “ It were better for a man to 
be subject to any vice than to drunkenness ; for all 
other vanities and sins are recovered, and it dulleth 
the spirits, and destroyeth the body as ivy doth the 
old tree ; the longer it possesseth a man, the more 
he will delight in it, and the older he groweth the 
more he shall be subject to it.” 


41 


On this Sunday the facetious engineer indulged 
extensively in the vice, and having wandered into 
a small clump of live oaks or hammock — as it is 
termed by the natives of Carolina — a few hundred 
yards from the beach, where, imagining he was on 
hoard, he partially disrobed and hung his garments 
on the branch of a tree with the impression it was the 
clothes-rack in his state-room, making mother earth 
his bed and his covering the ethereal skies. When 
roused out and laughed at by his friends for the mis- 
take he had made, Joe insisted he knew what he was 
about, and had been ^ ^ cradled (hie) to sleep on the bil- 
lowy (hie) bosom of the mighty deep, and, and,” — 
for old Joe was grandiloquent and disdained the lan- 
guage of the vulgar, ^^the deep bosom oi the mighty 
billows,” continuing, as he straggled down to the 
landing, ^‘'Yousee, gentlemen, the truth must be told, 
for it is has ever been (hie) considered of such vital im- 
portance, and — and such important vitality, that it 
was inculcated (hie) in the sayings of the Chaldeans, 
as a principle of the most expedient utility, and (hie) 
and the most uscfid expediency. ’ ’ As the boat neared 
the Mary Sanford near sundown, the engineer, who 
had a great regard for the ship’s doctor, and who 
had recovered, in a great degree, from the effects of 
his morning’s libations, addressing that gentleman, 
remarked: ^‘1 have been told, Doctor, by men of 
your profession, that the forcible and vehement ap- 
plication of any hard substance, like the hoof of a 
quadruped, to the tender and carniferous portions of 
the human frame, such as the posterior elongation, 

4 * 


42 


occasions a pain^ a pang, I may say of the intensest 
acuteness, and — and of the acutest inte'iisity ' add- 
ing, before the roar of laughter which greeted the 
observation was subdued, ‘‘Now my advice is to 
give that d — d Owens an application of that charac- 
ter, as a reward for his day’s conduct, and — and for 
his conduct to-day.” 

Joe was about making a smiling protest against 
such a breach of discipline, when a rope was thrown 
from the Sanford, and after the day’s enjoyment the 
party stood once more upon her deck, and the offi- 
cers dispersed to their quarters. Odell dryly ob- 
serving, as he passed the officer of the day, “ Take 
care you don’t get sick. Lieutenant, for awhile, or 
the doctor may give you a heavy dose and send you 
to your room.” Singularly enough, in a few weeks 
after the trip to Hilton Head, Lieutenant Owens 
informed the doctor he was sutfering from enlarged 
veins of the right leg, but Sharp refused advice, 
unless he allowed his name to be placed on the sick 
list. Owens for two or three days refused this 
demand of the ship’s surgeon, but finally complied, 
and when the fact became known to the remaining 
officers, they unanimously requested Joseph to de- 
vise a plan for his removal from the ship, and at 
the request of the Captain he accordingly penned 
the following letter : 

United States Steamee Mary Sanford, ) 
Off Charleston Bar, Nov. 10, 18 — . ) 

To Wm. Johnson, Fleet Surgeon^ S. A. Blockading Squadron: 

Dear Sir — I would respectfully call for a medical survey upon 
Lieutenant John Owens, as he is unable to attend to duty owing 


43 


to varicose veins of right leg. According to the patient’s own 
statement lie had suffered with the same affection previous to 
entering the service, and is therefore not entitled to pension. 

I am, sir, yours truly, 

Joseph Sharp. 

The above was immediately despatched hy Captain 
Kempton to the flag-ship Philadelphia, and during 
the afternoon of the same day an officer reported on 
board to relieve Mr. Owens, and brought an order 
which read as follows : 

Sir — You are hereby relieved from duty and will at once report 
on board of hospital ship John Adams, to stand a medical sur- 
vey. I am, sir, yours respectfully, 

David Porter, Rear Admiral U. S. N. 

To Lieut. John Owens, U. S. S. Mary Sanford. 

Mr. Owens, it may well be supposed, was greatly 
surprised at the reception of this order, for he had 
not imagined such would be the result, and he gave 
utterance to bitter reproaches against the Doctor, 
who in reply hoped this would teach him a lesson in 
the future. There was a general rejoicing over his 
departure, as he was exceedingly unpopular with 
officers and crew, and Joe was complimented highly 
for his stratagem, the engineer in his usual felicitous 
style remarking: Bless my soul, was’nt that a 

piece of sharp practice, and — and a sharp piece of 
practice 

A few weeks subsequent to the removal of Owens, 
the vessel was ordered to Havana, and about mid- 
night, when nearing Key West, a portion of the 
crew who had not been on shore for the past two 
years, resolved to take charge of the steamer by 
force, run her ashore and desert the service ; how- 


44 


ever it fortunately occurred that the tumult was 
heard in the darkness onboard the armed ship Cher- 
bourg, which was not very distant, and holding the 
same course with the Sanford. Divining the uproar 
to arise from a mutiny, the Cherbourg sent promptly 
a large force of men to aid the steamer, and in a few 
moments placed the mutineers, who composed a ma- 
jority of the crew, in irons. But as one misfortune 
is ever succeeded by another, scarcely had matters 
been placed in proper trim, and the excitement 
somewhat abated, before a new and unexpected 
danger threatened the gallant vessel, and this was 
from the guns of a heavily armed privateer, which 
bore dbwn on the Mary Sanford with the compliment 
of a solid shot across her bows. All was confusion 
tliough not dismay on the latter vessel, as the larger 
portion were below, amongst whom were some ex- 
cellent gunners, but after their recent conduct could 
not be freed and intrusted with her defence. Thus 
short-handed, there was no other resource for our 
hero and the other officers but to man the guns in 
haste, and beyond doubt the unequal combat Avould 
have closed in a disaster for the stars and stripes, 
but providentially the shouts and yells of the muti- 
neers being distinctly heard on board of the enemy, 
impressed the wary privateersmen unacquainted 
with the true position of affairs with the belief that 
they were outnumbered, and as discretion is the better 
part of valor, after the interchange of a foAv shots, 
drew off and left the Sanford to pursue her course. 
Thus, as will be conceded, the desperate men con- 


45 


fined below decks unwittingly rendered more 
efficient service on tbe steamer than they could have 
done if free and engaged in her defence. No further 
interruption occurring, on the evening of the follow- 
ing day they anchored under the guns of Moro 
Castle, in the harbor of Havana. The steamer 
brought as passengers from Charleston, Mr. Wrn. 11. 
and his daughter Mary, of Philadelphia, be- 
tween the latter of whom and the youthful surgeon a 
slight intimacy was established during the passage, 
so that during the brief stay of the vessel at the gay 
metropolis of Cuba, Joseph^ in connection with the 
young lady^s father, formed her constant escort in 
viewing the city and its notable sights, amongst 
which was the grave Spaniard’s favorite amusement, 
a bull fight in the public square or plaza, and in 
the evening, at the Tacon theatre, witnessed for the 
first time the renowned Spanish fandango by natives 
and in national costume. 

During this auspicious season of enjoyment the 
susceptible heart of the student might doubtless have 
been enamored of the fair girl by whose side he 
was so constantly placed, had not his former unfor- 
tunate experience as a suitor still agitated his 
memory ; and neither pleasure nor change, nor the 
indifference and unmerited insult he had received at 
the hands of Lillie Ardennc, had served to entirely 
obliterate her image from his mind, so sincere liad 
been his youthful and hopeless passion. Our liero, 
before leaving Havana, was summoned one after- 
noon to attend a young man taken suddenly ill 


46 


on the steamer Liberty of the New York line, hut 
before he could render assistance the sufferer had 
expired, of which incident our lively engineer took 
occasion to remark : ‘ ‘ He was no doubt a sensible 
young man, and thought he resembled tlie old 
soldier killed in action, who had no need of repent- 
ance, for he went so quick and got into heaven that 
the devil never knew he was dead.’^ 

Before the return trip to Charleston, poor Odell, 
who was proceeding to the wharf after a night’s 
carousal, and carrying according to custom a heavy 
top-hamper of Spanish brandy, got overboard in the 
dark, but being happily fished out in time, and asked 
how he relished old Neptune’s soup, responded, 

I’ve got nothing against the soup, but whoever put 
the salt in (hie) was not a bit stingy, and — and not 
stingy a bit.” 

As the Mary Sanford steamed out of the harbor, 
threatening clouds obscured the sun, and off the 
Bahamas a hurricane struck the good ship, her rud- 
der-chain was broken ; she became almost unmanage- 
able, and was tossed at the mercy of the waves, but 
the young Doctor, who possessed both a cool head 
and intrepid heart, w'as perfectly collected midst the 
deafening blasts of wind and the mountainous bil- 
lows that nearly engulfed the steamer at times. 
Yet wlio ever gazed upon the broad sea witliout 
emotion, whether viewed from the deck of a tempest- 
tossed bark in stern majesty dashing its waves 
with resistless fury, or to behold it beneath the 
silver moon, its broad bosom broken only by a gentle 


47 


rippie, dr again standing on some promontory, 
whence the eye roams far out over its glassy surface, 
basking beneath the midday sun, do we not invol- 
untarily conceive a nobler idea of the majestj^ of 
that God, that true and ever living God who hold- 
eth ^‘the waters in the hollow of his hand,'' and 
veril}^, whilst the night breeze moaning by, soothes 
the watchful helmsman with gentle sounds, still 
the tempest, shrieking and groaning among the 
cordage, turns him pale with anticipation of a watery 
grave. 

Several months elapsed after the return voyage 
of the Sanford just described, and with but little of 
interest to disturb their monotony, when the ship 
was ordered out of commission and immediately 
dispatched North. As she was rounding Hatteras, 
of which the seamen have a saying, If the Cape of 
Good Hope leaves you by, at Cape Hatteras you are 
sure to die." One of the crew, Charles Baker, of 
Philadelphia, fell overboard, and in the darkness 
was soon lost to sight, but on lowering a boat and 
search being made, he was discovered and brought 
safely on board. In due season entering the Dela- 
ware and leaving Newcastle behind them, it was not 
long ere the city of Philadelphia, wrapt in the gray 
mist of morning, appeared in sight, and the Mary 
Sanford, after a long and eventful absence, cast 
anchor off the Navy Yard, and our hero had 
leave to return to his native village, being no longer 
in the government employ. It could not be other- 
wise than with strangely mingled sensations of joy 


48 


and sorrow tliat Joseph Sharp now made prepara- 
tions for his return home. Joy at the retrospect of 
the honorable and interesting career he had so re- 
cently led, and sorrow at the contemplation of the 
uncertain future and the inevitable enmity which 
a portion of his old neighbors were sure to have in 
store for him. The morning journals duly chroni- 
cled the arrival of the dispatch steamer Mary San- 
ford, South Atlantic Squadron, Captain Kempton, 
and the full list of officers’ names, amongst which 
appeared Surgeon Joseph Sharp, Churchville, Md., 
and a crew of one hundred and thirty-five men ; and 
previous to leaving the ship, Joe was the recipient 
at the hands of the officers of a beautiful gold-headed 
cane, as a compliment for his kind attention to 
them. 


CHAPTER V. 


“ Yet we find midst the gloom that our pathway o’ershaded, 
A few spots of sunshine, and flowers unfaded.” 



\]^CE more beneath the old familiar 
f roof-tree, the relatives of Joseph, over- 
[ joyed after his long absence to 
have him once more home, in their 
I kindly welcome, fully atoned to his 
wounded feelings for the sneers and 
) scowls of others, which now as of old, 
^were freely showered upon him. He 
was informed that during the past 
year Kobert Dull had devoted his time to the 
study of medicine, and had attended a course of 
lectures at the University of Maryland, also, that 
he was now home for a brief season, designing shortly 
to return to the college. Shortly after his arrival, 
Joe accidentally encountered Dull at the village 
store, and the bystanders, anxious for a jest at the 
expense of the farmer’s son, audibly insinuated he 
had better study and attend college the coming 
session, as Bob Dull would be there and could assist 
him. The latter, with a toss of the head, responded 
to the hint by saying : Robert Dull, gentlemen, 

5 


49 



50 


never makes a practice of assisting or associating 
with a plebeian fool.’" Though the insult was a 
gross one, Joe commanded his temper, making the 
simple reply : Well, sir, as you were never able to 

assist any one at the academy, should I attend the 
college, I should never look for information from 
you.'' The propriety of the answer was conceded 
by all, and evoked applause which so enraged Dull 
that he bit his lips in silence, being unable to find 
words to express himself ; and he now not only hated 
but feared the talented youth who had so recently 
discharged the duties of an arduous position with 
credit, for he apprehended he might enter the uni- 
versity with himself at the approaching term, and 
the apprehension proved correct. The reader may 
be surprised that Joe, who was young, impetuous 
and ardent, should for so long a time and so meekly 
have borne the contumely and the unprovoked sneers 
of the banker’s son, a discreditable course, which 
appeared with lapse of years to increase in bitter- 
ness. True, he would have been amply justified in 
retorting as follows : And what are you, Kobert 

Dull, that you should lord it over me? are your 
limbs stronger? your muscles firmer? your propor- 
tions juster? and if you disclaim physical compari- 
sons, are your mental faculties of a higher order ? 
are the treasures of science more expanded to your 
view than to mine, or are you lord of the thunder- 
bolts of eloquence ? have you wit to illumine, or 
judgment to combine, or energy to control ? or are 
you not what in reality you appear, overbearing, yet 


51 


impotent — tyrannical, yet ridiculous? Go! grind 
your minions into the earth, what care I for your 
weak and frivolous despotism ; true, you are rich, 
and I am the child of poverty, yet God made me 
your equal, and it shall go hard hut I will prove 
your superior.” Such would have been the merited 
reproof to insolent assumption. But our hero, as 
we have elsewhere observed, had no ordinary mind ; 
remarkable self-possession was one of his leading 
attributes, and disdaining the weakness of his adver- 
sary, pity, more than anger, controlled his action 
when brought in contact with the upstart^ and he 
felt that they who forgive most, shall be most 
forgiven.” 

The commencement of the winter term, the 3rd of 
October, having arrived, large numbers of students 
from the various States of the Union appeared 
within the wails of the University of Maryland, pro- 
ceeding at once to the greenroom ” to settle their 
matriculation fee. Kobert Dull, who was one of the 
number, was observed to suddenly change counte- 
nance when a familiar voice behind him was heard 
to say in answer to one of the Professors, ‘‘My 
name sir, is Joseph Sharp, of Churchville, Md.” 
The haughty young man turned pale with rage, 
and permitting his hatred to supersede his limited 
amount of judgment, he turned quickly round, ex- 
claiming : “Professor, do you intend to receive that 
base fellow’s application and place it on the same list 
with mine?” This unexpected and unusual inci- 
dent startled both faculty and students, and all 


52 


eyes were instantly fastened on the Harford county 
rivals. The Dean of the faculty demanded of Kohert 
to state his objection to the young man, hut before 
the demand could be complied with, two of the 
witnesses to the scene who were well acquainted 
with both parties, responded : There was no objec-r 
tion whatever to Mr. Sharp ; he was a gentleman in 
every respect, his parents and relatives were well 
known in their neighborhood, and that this attack 
upon him was caused through the promptings of 
jealousy and ancient feelings of enmity."' This 
emphatic declaration disconcerted Kohert Dull, and 
greatly pleased Joe, and had propriety permitted 
he would have warmly embraced his generous advo- 
cates. In the meanwhile the Dean, who was satisfied 
of the general accuracy of the statement just made, 
delivered a severe reprimand to Dull for the disturb- 
ance he had caused, and his unfriendly assault upon 
the reputation of a fellow student. The animosity 
of years was largely enhanced by the termination of 
this opening scene at College, and its immediate 
effect was to produce a division of sentiment 
amongst the body of students, a portion of whom 
ardently espoused the cause of the farmer's son, 
whilst others, dazzled by his wealth and social posi- 
tion, rallied to the standard of the aristocratic youth, 
shrewdly foreseeing that they could turn his lavish 
command of means to the promotion of their own 
ends during the winter’s residence in Baltimore they 
were about to enjoy. 

It is generally contended, and with much show of 


53 


truth, that medical students as a body are among 
the most arrant scapegraces in the community. 
After leading a reckless academical career for a term 
of years, rooming together and constantly plotting 
mischief, they are congregated suddenly in vast 
11 umbers amidst the innumerable temptations of our 
larger cities^ making midnight excursions to lonely 
cemeteries, dealing with and dissecting the poor 
remains of humanity, and ever becoming hardened 
to the most ghastly and revolting scenes, can it be 
otherwise than that they should for a brief season 
he devoid of those more refined sentiments which in 
after life characterize very many noble ornaments to 
the profession? Nothing is more natural for a 
student than to adopt the minor vices of smoking 
and chewing, and too frequently the far greater one 
of drinking. Usually divided into small parties, 
tliey cling to the members of their own clique with 
the tenacity of sincere friendship, and many times 
as they are known to be at variance with rival 
cliques, yet they seldom or never degenerate into 
open rupture, but if one of their number should get 
into trouble outside of the college, one and all will 
defend him to the last, and should he be in any 
manner injured, will secure revenge whether right 
or wrong. Many may imagine that the student of 
medicine, accustomed to frolics and loose behavior, 
would impair in a measure the noble faculties con- 
ferred upon him by an all-wise Providence, yet we 
have seldom to record a fact of this character amongst 
the many thousands who have rendered these studies 
5 * 


54 


their pursuit, and particularly as regards the faculty 
of retaining the subject-matter of the lectures deliv- 
ered during a session, and upon which they are sub- 
ject to be examined in an abrupt and unexpected 
manner at any moment during their college career. 
Being unprovided with hooks, and left with no de- 
fence beyond a retentive memory, it will be perceived 
at once how important is an unimpaired one to the 
disciple of Galen ; and it may not he amiss to subjoin 
a brief commentary on memory in general, as it is 
one of the proudest attributes of manhood and justly 
called the Mother of the Muses.'' This faculty is 
subject to be impaired by various physical and men- 
tal causes, while a similar agency can sometimes 
restore it to its pristine energies, cr develop its 
powers when sluggish and defective. Memory may 
be termed as the history of the past chronicled in 
our minds, to be consulted and called upon when- 
ever circumstances or strange complications of human 
interest demand its powerful aid. Memory has been 
divided into that faculty that applies to facts, and 
to that mere superficial quality that embraces a re- 
collection of things, to which must be added the 
memory of localities. According to the doctrine of 
Aristotle, reminiscence is the power of recollecting 
an object by means of a syllogistic chain of thought, 
an intellectual link with which animals do not seem 
to be gifted. The remembrance of things or facts 
can alone bring forth sound judgment. It implies 
a regular co-ordination of ideas, in which circum- 
stances are linked with each other. The chain 


55 


broken, no conclusion can be drawn. The reason 
why the society of the learned is seldom entertaining 
to others, is founded on this, for they are considered 
absent, while in truth their brain is busily employed 
in pursuits perhaps of great magnitude, and must 
therefore be anything but agreeable to those who 
generally think through the medium of other per- 
son’s brains. 

Upon memory, as we have said, depends the 
student’s success in a medical college, and assuredly 
time will never erase the recollection of those intro- 
ductory scenes, the dissecting-room and the mid- 
night raid upon the homes of the dead, when he 
stands as it were a living, trembling monument, a 
landmark dividing the timid youth of the past from 
the learned doctor of the future. Both Sharp and 
Dull had successfully surmounted these trying 
ordeals, and the innate characteristics of each are 
now to be developed The latter, bountifully sup- 
plied with means, and with little inclination for 
study, we may conjecture found a prolific field in 
the questionable attractions of fashionable life for a 
lavish expenditure of the banker’s wealth ; whilst 
the former, studious as we have discovered hereto- 
fore, and enjoying a limited allowance, scarcely 
sufficient to meet his absolute expenses, from the 
humble income at his father’s disposal, applied him- 
self with redoubled energy to the acquisition of a 
thorough knowledge of the important profession he 
had adopted. 

The rival students saw but little of each other, 


56 


and then only when in attendance upon lectures. 
At the close of one of these, after several months 
had passed without incident, Joseph overheard a 
remark, more than usually derogatory, regarding 
his character, addressed by Dull to a student of the 
name of Sidney. The pertinacity of his caluminous 
reports had at length aroused the forgiving nature 
of our hero, who was convinced that ^^forbearance 
had ceased to become a virtue,’' and hence, with the 
impulse of an indignation that could no longer he 
suppressed, he stepped forward and seizing Kohert 
Dull by the collar, demanded his meaning. The 
j)roud young man, highly incensed, and feeling his 
dignity impaired in an unwonted degree, exclaimed, 
stepping slightly hack : 

You cowardly puppy ! Meet me as a gentleman 
in the field and I will maintain my meaning.” 

Where you will, sir, and when you will,” re- 
sponded Joseph, and with a contemptuous glance, 
turned and left the hall. He was immediately 
joined on the way to his lodgings by an intimate 
and tried friend, Percival Norris, who had been one 
of the companions of his early childhood, who re- 
marked, on reaching the house where they mutually 
sojourned in town : 

Joe, I do not regret this, although you may 
regard it as unfortunate. I have no apprehension 
of a fatal result, and its effect will he to warn a 
malignant enemy that even the tongue of slander 
must have a termination.” 

‘‘For myself I have neither regrets nor appre- 


57 


hensionSj believe me, old friend,’' said the student, 
with a smile, ‘‘beyond the sure disapproval of the 
faculty, and possibly the disgrace of expulsion.” 

“We will not discuss that in advance,” rejoined 
his friend ; “ but as we anticipate a speedy visit from 
Dull’s representative, let us make arrangements at 
once for the meeting, unless you have another friend 
that you prefer to myself.” 

“I certainly have not,” -was the answer, “and 
shall ever be indebted for your assistance in this 
affair.” 

In an hour’s time Mr. Frank Sidney, acting for 
the banker’s heir, announced himself, and sending 
up his card desired an interview with Mr. Sharp. 
On entering the apartment that gentleman, after 
ascertaining the object of his visit, courteously re- 
ferred him to his friend, Mr. Norris, and the prelim- 
inaries were speedily arranged, the hour of six the 
following morning being agreed upon, and the 
place a secluded grove four miles from the city ; the 
weapons to be used, the customary dueling pistols. 

It is hardly requisite to assure the reader that our 
hero, in common with all Christian gentlemen, ab- 
horred the absurd and so-called “ Code of honor,” 
so frequently resorted to on the part of young men, 
and firmly adhered to the principles that life is the 
gift of God, and it was never bestowed to be sported 
with, and that to be the participant in a hostile en- 
counter of this nature, rendered both challenger and 
challenged alike amenable to the severest censure ; 
but let the consequence be what it might, it was 


58 


now too late to retract. As tlie theme is an unpleas- 
ant one, we shall briefly dismiss it, and simply 
inform the reader that the hostile parties appeared 
promptly on the ground at the hour appointed. 
Kobert Dull was evidently uneasy, displaying con- 
siderable tremor when Sidney having loaded the 
weapons placed one within his hand and after a 
brief pause gave the order to fire. The shot went 
by the person of his antagonist, leaving him un- 
harmed. Sharp, who had determined to have no 
blood upon his hands, at the same instant raising 
the pistol discharged it in the air, when Dull, with- 
out however thanking his opponent for this act of 
magnanimity, yet doubtless well pleased to termi- 
nate the meeting, declared his honor satisfied, and 
by different routes the principals and their seconds 
returned at once to town, with the view of prevent- 
ing their absence being noted at college. Thus the 
affair was kept an entire secret from the Dean and 
Faculty, otherwise it would, beyond question, have 
resulted in the expulsion of all engaged in it. The 
remainder of the winter passed away without any 
special features to relieve the monotony of a stu- 
dent’s life, beyond an occasional mischievous freak, 
which the reckless ones of the gentry were prone to 
indulge in when occasion offered, such as capturing 
an unlucky African of a dark evening, rushing him 
up to the dissecting room, brandishing their knives 
above him, and producing an agony of terror that 
left the trembling individual scarcely the power to 
escape, when the order was given to leave. At 


59 


other times, when the snow lay deeply in the college 
yard, impromptu battles would be inaugurated, 
during which the halls would fly so thickly through 
the air that the spectators who were attracted 
thereby, police as well as others, would be compelled 
to beat a hasty retreat. 

There are follies as catching as contagious disor- 
ders, and thus even our hero who, as a rule, main- 
tained a very staid deportment, would at rare 
intervals be seduced into mingling with his fellow- 
students in those seasons of relaxation and social 
enjoyment, although, as his means would not per- 
mit, he was seldom to be found of an evening with 
the more advanced students indulging the luxury of 
a box at the opera house or theatre, and as there 
was much at times of an objectionable nature to be 
witnessed at these places, quite at variance with the 
steady principles in which Joseph had been indoc- 
trinated from childhood, he had but small relish for 
an imperfect enjoyment which is attended with 
regret, a surfeit of pleasure that brings disgust, and 
preferred seeking for some useful employment, 
which Galen calls ‘^nature’s physician,’' so essen- 
tial is it to human happiness. Both the tastes and 
habits of Kobert Dull being essentially different, 
and liberally supplied, as we have stated, with an 
indulgent father’s means, it was not surprising that 
gay saloons and scenes of festivity were graced with 
that gentleman’s presence night after night, nor 
that his private box at Ford’s was frequently shared 
by some favorite demoiselle whose artiflcial graces 
were far in excess of native modesty. 


60 


Miss Lena Frazier, who on occasions figured as a 
member of the corp de ballet, had succeeded in caus- 
ing extensive inroads upon the affections and the 
national currency of the banker's hopeful offspring, 
and in the short period of a winter’s flirtation had 
become sufficiently interested in his movements as 
to keep a jealous eye upon the advent of any rival 
that might arise to lessen her claims, and did not 
hesitate to exact promises of unchanging fidelity 
from the susceptible Kohert, whose response would 
generally amount to this Pour V armur de dieuP 
‘‘Do not, my charming Lena, ask such questions. 
Are you not aware my admiration, like a bird, is 
chained here and cannot fly away.” This tempora- 
ry amende honorable, however, would not prevent an 
occasional imperious call at the lodgings of the 
recreant student, whenever a broken engagement 
would ruffle the calm sea of Lena’s affections, and 
these visits, which were usually performed in a 
showy equipage on the part of the fascinating actress, 
became of too great notoriety to he overlooked, 
and the landlady was constrained to request a ces- 
sation of them, the alternative being other quarters 
if not complied with. A change would have been 
of disadvantage to Dull, as his intimate associates, 
upon one or two of whom he largely depended for 
assistance in his studies, had rooms at the house, 
and he did not desire a separation from them, and 
he was therefore forced as pleasantly as possible to 
ask the actress not to repeat her calls. Lena was 
not only a pretty but sagacious woman, and had 


61 


\ 

been too long an observer of man’s insincerity to be 
deceived, or fail to realize tbe waning influence of her 
charms over the fickle student’s heart, and although 
greatly incensed — as what discarded woman would 
not be — she wisely concluded that to dissemble was 
her true policy, and by so acting probably realize 
the common belief that the end of love is the begin- 
ning of friendship, yet she determined in a suitable 
and truly melo-dramatic manner to wreak ven- 
geance, not upon the lover, but the one to whom that 
lover’s, heart was given, and the sequel will portray 
the mode in which that object was accomplished, at 
least in the estimation of the misguided woman her- 
self. A few days subsequent to this difference with 
the fair Lena, Robert was handed the annexed note : 
Mr. Robert Dull : 

Dear Friend — you make it convenient to call this evening 
at my aunt’s, No. — Hamilton Terrace, and oblige 

Yours, Lillie A. 

The student was somewhat surprised, never having 
been honored with a line from Miss Ardenne, nor 
being aware of her presence in town, and in truth 
Dull was secretly pleased at the opportunity afforded 
of prejudicing the mind of the writer against his 
hated competitor, having been led to suppose that a 
warmer sentiment than friendship existed between 
Lillie and the farmer’s son. Hence it was with 
anticipations of pleasure that on the evening in ques- 
tion, he greeted the daughter of Judge A. and ex- 
pressed his desire that her sojourn in Baltimore 
would be an agreeable one. After a number of 
6 


62 


inquiries regarding his college friends, the name of 
Mr. Sharp was mentioned, and the vindictive young 
man, although so recently indebted to that gentle- 
man for his life, scrupled not to disparage his abili- 
ties and his creditable course at the University, con- 
cluding with the prediction that he would not pass 
an examination, but that he himself expected to 
graduate the following month, and begged her to 
accept a ticket for herself and friends on the occasion. 
The fair girl who was aware of the hostile relations 
existing between her visitor and her former admirer, 
gave but little credence to the voluble declamation 
against the latter with which she was indulged, 
yet courtesy would not permit her to exhibit disbe- 
lief, and so the evening passed with the customary 
amount of gossip and unmeaning compliment, and 
on taking leave she accepted the vain-glorious stu- 
dent’s invitation to promenade the succeeding after- 
noon. Dull kept his appointment in Hamilton 
Terrace with unwonted punctuality, and being 
introduced to Miss Ada Morton and Mr. Tom Mer- 
edith, friends of Miss Ardenne, the party strolled 
leisurely amidst a smiling throng of fair belles and 
gallant beaux along the fashionable promenades 
with which the City of Monuments abound. 

What gay ideas crowd the vacant brain 

When peers, and dukes, and all their sweeping train, 

Garters and stars and coronets appear, 

And in soft sounds “ Your grace ” salutes the ear ! 

Now, Your grace,” ’tis true, did not salute the 
ear, nor the stars and brilliant coronets, so custom- 


63 


ary in Hyde Park or Regent street, dazzle the view 
of our fair friends on the present occasion, yet we 
douht if the combined nobility of Great Britain 
would have created a tithe of the interest or amaze- 
ment which the sudden dehut on the Charles street 
stage of Miss Lena Frazier produced at this moment. 
The little actress, without word or warning, sprang 
like an avenging Nemesis at the person of Miss Ar- 
denne, rending her dress, disordering her beautiful 
tresses, marring her countenance, and causing her 
costly hat, worn for the first time, to roll inglo- 
riously across the crowded sidewalk. Lillie had 
only time to utter an involuntary shriek when she 
swooned away. Dull was speechless and too irres- 
olute to render assistance for a moment, whilst Lena, 
with the brief exclamation,^^ I am satisfied turned 
and disappeared amongst a gaping crowd of aston- 
ished beholders. It was some moments after being 
conveyed into a neighboring druggists ere the as- 
tounded young lady was sufiiciently recovered to be 
assisted into a carriage ordered for her use, and was 
then driven rapidly home, the offer of Mr. Dull to 
accompany her being firmly and disdainfully refused, 
as she remembered his name being pronounced by 
the infuriated actress at the moment of the assault, 
and inferred very justly that he was a slight if not 
an intimate acquaintance of her assailant. 

From this unpleasant occurrence Lillie Ardenne 
was confined for several days to the house ; her 
parents in the meantime, having been apprised by 
telegraph, arrived in the city and were greatly dis- 


64 


tressed, both at the condition in which they found 
their only child, and at the disgrace apprehended 
from the publicity of the affair. Mr Dull having 
called to inquire after, and if possible, to exculpate 
himself from censure, was politely informed that 
his absence was desired. Judge Ardenne having 
ascertained her address, called upon the actress, 
who received him courteously and gave him a candid 
history of her intimacy with the student, and apol- 
ogized for any trouble she may have entailed upon 
his family. The father was naturally reluctant that 
the courts should take cognizance of the affair, and 
departed with the promise of overlooking her con- 
duct ; and meeting Eobert Dull accidentally the 
following morning, forbade him positively visiting 
his daughter or any of the family. The proud 
young man was exceedingly mortified at the inter- 
dict thus placed upon him, and. equally chagrined 
that the knowledge of his disgrace could not be 
concealed from Sharp, whose usual magnanimity 
would not however permit him to notice the humil- 
iation even of one who had sought to injure him so 
grossly. 

The haughty but now greatly humiliated Lillie, 
after returning to her country home, did not for 
several months entirely recover from the effects of 
her sad discomfiture in Baltimore, consequently did 
not attend the medical commencement to which Mr. 
Dull had so blandly invited her, with the fond ex- 
pectation of receiving at her hands a princely 
bouquet or other token of her approval. 


65 


The period fixed for the final examination had 
now arrived, and among the candidates for gradua- 
tion was the name of Robert Dull, and so sure was 
he of his ability to pass, that he transmitted quite 
freely his tickets of invitation with the annexed en- 
dorsement, together with his monogram, Compli- 
ments of Robert Dull, M. D.’^ At the conclusion 
of the fiery ordeal, a vote was taken by the Profes- 
sors as to the worthiness of the contestants to merit 
the degree of doctor of medicine, and the students 
being assembled in one of the lecture-rooms, notices 
to each of the successful students, placed in neat en- 
velopes, were despatched to them through the hands 
of the janitor. The customary nervous excitement 
was visible in the deportment of the assembled 
crowd. A number of successful candidates were 
announced, and at length the name of Robert Dull 
being called, the notice addressed that gentleman 
was found to contain the following : 


Sir — I regret to inform you that your examination has not 
been satisfactory. 

I am, sir, yours respectfully, 


Dean, 


To Mr. Robert Dull. 


The crest-fallen banker's son, amidst exclamations 
of Oh ! oh ! Dull has gone up !" immediately left 
the college, too much mortified to be interviewed by 
any one, and proceeding to his boarding house, 
although the hour was 10 P. M., packed his trunk 
and took the cars for home, arriving at one in the 
morning, although he was obliged to walk five miles 
6 * 


66 


of the journey. His disappointment, it may readily 
he conjectured, was keen ; hut after passing some 
weeks at home, he returned to the cii^y and entered 
a private office as a student, replying to inquiries 
regarding his late examination, that he had changed 
his mind and determined to take three courses. 
Meanwhile young Sharp remained in Baltimore 
studying laboriously and assisting in the office of 
Professor S. 

The following autumn the rivals again entered 
college under far different circumstances from those 
attending their previous course, for owing toKobert’s 
multiplicity of troubles, and his failure during the 
past winter, he was now constrained, however 
unwillingly, to observe a respectful silence both in 
relation to the abilities and standing of his ancient 
enemy. And now, gentle reader, we shall beg your 
indulgence to close the present season’s career of the 
students, with the simple announcement that each 
successfully passed the ultimate examination, and 
were rewarded with the long sought diplomas. 


CHAPTER VI. 


’Tis not the fairest form that holds 
The mildest, purest soul within ; 

’Tis not the richest plant that folds 
The sweetest breath of fragrance in. 


T would be by no means difficult for 
the most obtuse intellect to foresee that 
the prodigal habits, in addition to the 
ai rogant nature of Doctor Dull, but ill- 
suited the trying and arduous profession 
upon which he was now about to enter, 
and the reader who has marked his 
career to the present juncture, will read- 
ily perceive that his innate qualities 
possessed little in common with those truly noble 
characteristics eloquently portrayed by the eminent 
practitioner. Dr. Francis, in speaking of the physi- 
cian’s duty and responsibility: ‘‘Who that has 
kept vigils at the couch of genius, and marked the 
wayward flickerings of its sacred fire made yet more 
ethereal by disease, or seen beauty grow almost 
supernatural in the embrace of pain, has not felt 
his mission to be holy as well as responsible? Let 
not that be thought a light office which summons 
us to minister, as apostles of science, to the greatest 



68 


Giiigencies of life ; to alleviate the decay of nature ; 
to watch over the glimmering dawn and the fading 
twilight of existence. What a mastery of self, 
what requisites, mental and corporeal, are demanded 
in him who is the observer of scenes like these.’' 
Devoid of the talent and amenity of manner, which 
can alone secure popularity in those who would be 
otherwise utterly repulsive. Dull could expect hut 
little encouragement from a discerning community ; 
and when after renting an office in a fashionable 
locality at six hundred per annum, gorgeously fur- 
nishing the same, and procuring a costly carriage 
and pair of blooded nags, together with a liveried 
driver, he sat complacently down to await patronage, 
or varied the morning’s monotony, as he usually did, 
by giving a drive to his fashionable acquaintance 
through the avenues and parks, we may not be 
amiss in conjecturing that the citizens of Baltimore, 
renowned as they are for a genial and hospitable rep- 
utation, looked with an unfavorable eye upon the 
advent of this Harford county luminary. Again, 
the practice which time might possibly have brought 
him, became small by degrees and beautifully 
less,” when pressing day-calls were postponed for 
hours, under the doctor’s sapient conclusion that 
it would not answer to he prompt, less the family 
or their neighbors should conclude that his practice 
was too limited to delay him elsewhere ; and mid- 
night calls were treated still more cavalierly, by 
reason of the doctor’s customary response that he 
would call at 10 A. M., as he was suffering with a 


69 


cold and so forth. The result of this trifling was, 
that when the visit was efiected another physician 
had been summoned to meet the exigency, and our 
fashionable M. D., after making some irritable com- 
ments in relation to the case, was politely informed 
that his professional services would in future be 
dispensed with. 

Directly in contrast with the foregoing was the 
action of Dr. Sharp at this period of our history. 
He also located in the City of Monuments, but his 
slender means would permit only of an obscure office 
at twelve dollars per month, and as he possessed 
neither team nor the wherewith to procure one, and 
depended solely upon his practice for a living, his 
prospects at the outset were by no means flattering ; 
but the disadvantages under which he labored were 
compensated by a stout heart and never-failing flow 
of spirits, that would not admit of viewing the dark 
side of the picture. The initial case in his chosen 
avocation was that of a lad whose hand was badly 
cut, which our hero promptly and regularly attended 
until recovery. Through his gentle, obliging dis- 
position, and readiness to respond night or day to 
every summons, he speedily acquired an income 
sufficient to meet his humble expenses, yet, as all 
new beginners may expect, he was sorely tried at 
times. Here we may as a pertinent theme properly 
ask the indulgence of a brief digression. One of 
the greatest trials of the young physician— and no 
one but he who has tried its realities can tell the 
fearful responsibility attending it — is to form a cor- 


70 


rect diagnosis, and it is only after he has been 
called to see a patient that he is made conscious of 
its supreme importance. Should the young practi- 
tioner form a false diagnosis of any disease that he 
may he called to attend, his mode of treatment 
would only have a tendency to aggravate and pro- 
mote the diseased process going on in the differ- 
ent organs, either the solids or fluids. Not only 
would an error in forming a diagnosis aggravate 
the disease, but such a gross error might he the 
cause of his total ruin should it become known in 
his community, and even if it did not involve his 
ruin, it would take years to regain his reputation. 
This, then, shows the vital importance of being slow 
in judgment, and sure in every step towards form- 
ing a correct diagnosis, as upon it rests not only his 
reputation, hut the life or death of the patient de- 
pends upon his accuracy. Therefore should he en- 
deavor to keep pace with the progress of medical 
science in its constant advancement, revealing new 
methods of treatment and bringing him into closer 
relations with physical science It becomes an 
absolute and indispensable study for every one who 
wishes to attain success in his profession, and meet 
all its requisite demands at the proper time, watch- 
ing every symptom to see that it bears testimony to 
the fact that he has in no instance violated his own 
diagnosis of the disease, and that he has not estab- 
lished a system of treatment based upon principles 
of erroneous and unfounded character. 

Having force and phenomena to deal with, con- 


n 


sequently he should become familiar with them, at 
least so far as they relate to his practice. He 
should he enabled to interpret all the symptoms 
manifested from time to time, and turn them to a 
correct diagnosis, which subject thus embraces more 
aspects than one ; it presents him not only with re- 
liable and just ideas of forming the same, of treat- 
ment for many nervous derangements and diseases, 
hut it affords an instructive phase of nature in 
growth, waste and repair, in cause and cure, thus 
throwing light on the whole range of the healing 
art. But care and practical attention should attend 
his every step, as a young beginner, in this inter- 
esting department of medical science. For no con- 
clusion has ever stood the test of time or gained 
general consent with the intelligent, that is not 
strictly in harmony with the laws of nature and the 
moral laws of God. When through disease, organs 
become the seat of foreign matter, which prevent 
them from performing their special functions, it is 
through the judicious treatment of the physician 
that they become assimilated to healthy tissue, or 
are properly expelled from the body, by prescribing 
the appropriate medicine required in special and in 
general treatment, to allay or arrest the morbid 
process of the disease, and restore it to the healthy 
condition of its normal state. It is his duty to study 
the action of the various forms of disease ; the 
methods of the administration and application of 
drugs, in order to apply them at the proper time 
and to the appropriate diseases, that he may acquire 


12 


a correct knowledge of the philosophy of life, the 
laws of disease, and the catastrophe of death. It is 
important, then, that he become familiar with the 
different diseases as manifested by the disturbance 
of nature, together with the general and the specific 
laws that regulate the given transmission of those 
diseased agents through the different living tissues. 
All this must be studied with the fullest sense of 
their importance in tw6 relations ; first, as they relate 
to his future reputation ; secondly, with a view to 
the advancement of the healing art of medical 
science, and the immediate relief of a no small class 
of afflicted persons, and at the same time constantly 
keep in mind the great difference in human nature ; 
the habits of the patient, his mental faculty, and 
his constitutional powers, his hereditary affections, 
and whatever deformities may occur either physi- 
cally or mentally. 

Let us now return to our youthful M. D. A 
number of physicians, victims of an unworthy j eal- 
ousy, not uncommon in the profession, spoke ill of 
Dr. Sharp, as they gradually began to hear liberal 
praises bestowed upon the rising young man, and 
were apprehensive he might lessen their practice. 
Tliis greatly annoyed and wounded the feelings of 
the obnoxious new comer, as he had determined to 
act honorable to all, and expected the hand of fel- 
lowship in return. 

It is discreditable to many of our senior M. D’s, 
that they make it a rule in many cases to speak in 
derogatory terms of younger members of the pro- 


73 


fession, frequently entering upon the subject with 
such remarks as, ‘‘ Weil, I cannot understand how 
such and such a stupid fellow ever got a diploma 
or if they know of a special case under treatment. 
Well, let him go ahead; he will soon finish him 
or her — soon kill them,'’ or something to that effect. 
Not honoring the humble aspirant to medical fame 
with tlie title of M. D., but they are always inex- 
perienced fellows.” If called in for consultation, 
and are informed by a member of the family the 
name of the complaint as pronounced by the younger 
physician, they will shake their heads with the 
gravity of a Chinese mandarin and exclaim, ‘‘Is it 
possible ? Why it is all wrong — it is a difierent dis- 
ease altogether. Show me the medicine prescribed. ’ ’ 
A glance, a smell, a long breath, and then it’s 
“My God, its a wonder the patient is not dead 
before this. Throw this stuff away, bottle and all ! ” 
Perhaps he may advise discharging the doctor ; if 
^not, and he deigns to consult with his junior, he 
will detain him for an hour with a multitude of 
irascible questions and disagreements, and after 
finding the young man better posted than himself, 
like the famed doctor in Moliere’s comedy, when 
the people of the household were doing what they 
could for the sick man, and the malady was press- 
ing, would not recede from his opinion, the poor 
fellow dying bravely during the dispute exclaimed, 
“Undoubtedly, the formalities must be guarded, 
whatever happens, a man dead is only a dead man^ 
and that is of little consequence ; but a formality 

7 


74 


neglected brings great prejudice upon the whole 
body of physicians ! At least he will never 
agree with the stupid fellow as he loves to term 
him, and will probably end the dispute by advising 
a further consultation with either the gray-haired 
Professor Cureall or Killnone, as the name of some 
distinguished friend may happen to suggest itself. 

Had our hero been blessed with wealth and a circle 
of influential friends, annoyances of the character 
narrated would have been of less frequent occurrence, 
but his good nature would have philosophically sub- 
mitted to the petty affronts and sneers of his elder 
brethren, had his exertions been crowned with a 
more permanent income, but in this period of his 
medical career, he was often oppressed with serious 
misgivings, and endured many sleepless nights, in 
contemplating the mode by which his incumbent 
expenses were to be met, being often without a dol- 
lar or a friend from whom he could request a loan. 
His faith, however, in a beneflcent Creator remained 
unshaken, and that faith, as ever will be the case, 
was shortly destined to be rewarded; for, after hav- 
ing his path long darkened with the sombre clouds 
of adversity, he was accidentally and very fortu- 
nately introduced to a physician of long standing 
and ample fortune, who had himself in former days 
met similar obstacles to those which now beset the 
career of Doctor Sharp, but successfully triumphing 
over the rebuifs-^^ ^ The slings and arrows of outraged 
fortune,’’ as the dramatist terms them — he was now 
in the enjoyment of a large and lucrative practice. 


75 


This tried and true friend, whom we shall name 
Doctor Ambro, having extended the hand of fellow- 
ship to Joseph, befriended him ever afterwards in 
all his troubles, assisting him when he required a 
consulting physician, often’ calling upon him to 
assist him in his own practice, or to attend to it 
when sick or absent from the city, thus rendering 
the young beginner invaluable service in establish- 
ing a name and building up a practice. His new 
found friend would ever listen with kindly interest 
to his statements of trials and temptations, for he 
had the grace of kind listening, as well as that of 
kind speaking ; and the reader will indulge us a 
moment, while we observe there is a significant 
value in this. Some men listen with an abstracted 
air, which shows that their thoughts are elsewhere. 
Some listen with a kind of importunate ferocity, 
which makes you feel that you are being put upon 
your trial, and that your auditor expects beforehand 
that you are going to tell him a lie, or to be inaccu- 
rate, or to say something which he will disapprove, 
and that you must mind your expressions. Some 
interrupt and will not hear you to the end. Some, 
meaning to be kind, listen with such determined, 
lively, violent attention, that you are at once made 
uncomfortable, and the charm of conversation is at 
an end. Many persons whose manners will stand 
the test of speaking, break down under the trial of 
listening. Kind listening is often an act of the most 
delicate interior mortification, and may be consid- 
ered an unerring sign of an innate politeness 


76 


Doctor Sharp, having after many weary months 
succeeded at length in securing a little practice, and 
the reputation of a good physician, was attracted 
one morning by a notice among the foreign news of 
the day, that war on a gigantic scale had broken 
out in Europe, and that surgeons were wanted for 
the German army. Here was a field for ambition, 
and the acquirement of a vast additional knowledge 
and practical experience, and having a knowledge 
of the German language he determined at once to 
apply for an appointment ; he did so, was accepted, 
and making immediate arrangements to leave for 
his new post of duty, and proceeding to New York, 
sailed hence for Europe, arriving at Moville, Ireland, 
and crossing to Glasgow, traveled thence to Edin- 
burgh, from which place he wrote home as follows : 

Edinburgh, July, 18 — . 

Dear . — I will now give you a few outlines of Edinburgh, 

the capital of Scotland, one of the most imposing and interesting 
cities of Europe. It has a population of 170,000 souls ; will well 
repay a lengthy visit, and ought not by any means to be passed 
by without stopping. My time does not permit a detailed ac- 
count of its interesting sights. It may not be amiss to call atten- 
tion to Edinburgh Castle, a queer old building, of somewhat 
doubtful origin, picturesquely located, and full of interest. We 
also visited Burn’s and Walter Scott’s monuments, and Holyrood 
House, considered by many the most interesting building in 
Scotland. It is well worth a visit, and one of the greatest pleas- 
ures I ever enjoyed was to visit the Castle, wherein IVIary, Queen 
of Scots, was confined and died— a nation’s martyr ; though she 
was doubted by many to be free from murder, yet as she was 
confined and died at the hands of her treacherous sister, Eliza- 
beth, her incarceration is interesting to every Christian. We 
next visited Melrose Abbey, Abbottsford, the residence of Sir 
Walter Scott, and Dryburg Abbey, his place of burial. Having 


77 


satisfied our curiosity regarding Edinburgh, and with a few 
liours spare time, we took a short trip to Linlithgow, ran rapidly 
through the fertile district of the Lothians, soon reaching our 
destination, with its grand buildings and palace of which the 
poet says : 

“ Of all the palaces so fair 

Built for the royal dwelling. 

In Scotland, far beyond compare 
Linlithgow is excelling ” 

We then visited Stirling, about thirty-five miles west of Edin- 
burgh, and celebrated for its Castle, once a residence of Scotland’s 
kings. Having spent three hours in sight seeing, we returned to 
Edinburgh, and thence to Leith, visiting its various places of 
interest, and left in the steamship Holy rood for Antwerp, by the 
way of Scarborough and Middlebrue (small seaports on the coast 
of England), hence to Flushing and Middlebui’g in Belgium, and 
then on to Antwerp. I shall now cease, stating that so far we 
have traveled over six thousand miles, traversing Ireland, Scot- 
land, England, Belgium, Holland, Prussia and France. My next 
shall be a trip through Germany. 

Yours respectfully, 

Joseph Sharp, 

Assistant Surgeon^ Wb Corps, Prussian Army. 

P. S. — These lines are dated Edinburgh, but are closed at 
Saarlouis, Germany, our present station. 

At Coblenz on the Rhine, Dr. Sharp found sev- 
eral other American siirgeons_, who had left their 
native homes to join the German service, and wlio 
had been a number of days in the city, but were 
unable to secure the promised appointments, although 
they had certificates of acceptance from the consul 
general and the medical board who examined them, 
yet with these credentials the surgeon general would 
not allow a single Amei’ican surgeon to enter upon 
his duties. 


78 


Week after week passed by, and poverty began 
to stare tliem in the face, for they had made no pro- 
vision for an emergency of this nature, being confi- 
dent of their acceptance they had provided only for 
the expenses of the voyage. After applying in 
many different quarters but all in vain, our hero 
wrote to the consul general at New York, who had 
given himself and friends the certificate which enti- 
tled them to the appointment of assistant surgeons, 
narrating their refusal, and the unpleasant position 
in which they were placed. To this letter the fol- 
lowing emphatic answer was speedily transmitted : 

New York, December 21, 18 — . 
Consulate General, North German Union. 

Dear Sir — Your letter dated St. Johann, Nov. 28, has come to 
hand. It recites a story which for two months I had the pain 
repeatedly to hear. I regret extremely the vexations which you 
have experienced, especially on the part of men of your own 
profession in the German service, from whom I little expected 
that they would receive in so unfriendly a manner enthusiastic 
young men who had come a long distance to share their patriotic 
labors, and who could show certificates from a German rep- 
resentative, bearing reference expressly to the highest govern- 
mental authority. It is an insult to me and to my chief for these 
army surgeons to thrust aside such certificates without making 
inquiry at the government as to the meaning of such paper, which 
seems to have taken them aback. I have felt it so, and I can 
tell you now, that Count Bismarck likewise feels indignant about 
it, and has ordered full satisfaction to be given you. 

I could not have the pleasure of seeing all of the medical gen- 
tlemen who passed through my office. To those whom I have 
spoken I have fully explained* their position as well as my rela- 
tion to this matter. But I am satisfied that the gentlemen com- 
posing the medical board of the executive committee of the 
German Patriotic Aid Society, who examined you and accepted 
and sent you out, as well us vice-consul, Dr. Stammauu, who at 


79 


tlie consulate general’s had charge of this affair, left no uncer- 
tainty in your minds in regard to it. You must have known 
that it was the Aid Society, and not the consulate that sent you 
out. The consulate was merely instrumental in forwarding you 
at the expense of said society and in giving you directions. Be- 
fore that the consulate had, at the instance of said society, ascer- 
tained whether surgeons were wanted at all, and whether such 
siu-gcons as were examined by a competent medical board here, 
and sent out by private parties, would be assured in being 
granted regular positions as assistants in the army, to which 
inquiry Count Bismarck himself immediately replied that such 
offer was thankfully accepted. 

From this dispatch I obtained the authority to give you the 
certificate, stating that the conditions under which you should 
be appointed being fulfilled, you had been accepted here for the 
service as assistant surgeons in the German armies. The paper 
which I issued to you did not bear upon its face the character of 
a “ Commission,” which, of course, I could not make out, but of 
a “ Certificate,” and was meant f.n- your legitimation, and in the 
words “ By the authorization of the Federal Chancellor,” pointed 
out to you and to every one to whom you might show it, the way 
how to seek remedy for a refusal of what was promised you. If 
at the first disregard of this certificate you had at once applied 
to that authority, justice would at once have been done you. 

Although Count Bismarck left Berlin soon after sending me 
his dispatch, the Foreign Office, especially the Secretary of State 
at the head of it, Mr. Von Thiele, were well advised in the mat- 
ter from the beginning. They received my reports about these 
expeditious of surgeons regularly, and were aware of my certifi- 
cate without restraining me till after the middle of September. 
As early as on the 4th of September Mr. Yon Thiele expressed 
to me his painful surprise that three of the American surgeons, 
as he had just learned, should have been refused ; he thought the 
surgeon general must have had good reasons, perhaps the imper- 
fectness of their German, to reject them. He promised to inves- 
tigate the case, but meditated some provision at once to be made 
for the disappointed, perhaps by procuring them piaces in private 
hospitals at Berlin. But in seeing Mr. Bancroft he learned that 
the gentlemen in question, who had been in Berlin, had left 


80 


already for America. These gentlemen were still at Liverpool 
however on the 19th of September. It turns out from what they 
wrote me from there that Mr. Bancroft had not been doing more 
for them than to “ manifest his astonishment at the manner in 
which they had been deceived,” and to advise them to hurry 
back to New York and seek their indemnity from me. 

Now had your representative near the North German Govern- 
ment done so much as to proceed, with his injured countrymen, 
to the authority indicated in the papers they bore from the con- 
sul-general, asking from that official’s chief an explanation for 
what he regarded as deceptive papers, you see from what I have 
told you that the whole matter would have been explained and 
arranged satisfactorily in the case of the first sufferers, and meas- 
ures been taken to prevent occurrences which had already made 
a painful impression upon our government. Why Mr. Bancroft 
in this glaring case, did not find his daily walk to the Foreign 
Office to protect the rights of his countrymen, I cannot account 

fop, * * * * * * 

I advise you now to send in your claim for all your expenses 
from the day you were left without provision till the day you 
were appointed, either directly to the Secretary of State, Von 
Thiele, Foreign Office, or to Mr. Frederick Kapp, member of the 
central committee for the wounded at Berlin, office under den 
Linden, No. 12, who, as the representative of the German Amer- 
ican Associated Aid Societies, will attend to your cases. The 
contents of this letter you may use towards everyone. I shall be 
especially gratified if on the grounds of the statements I have 
made, you will occasionally dispel any erroneous impressions 
which may have been created in this matter by public discussions 
in the press of this country or in Germany. 

I am, sir, very respectfully, your obedient servant, 

Johannes Bosing, 
Consul General. 

The effect of the above communication was magical 
in the cases of Doctor Sharp and his countrymen, 
for within a very brief period they received their 
appointments as surgeons and assistants, and were 
dispatched throughout Germany and France to dif- 


81 


ferent posts of duty — the annexed being a copy of 
the official order communicated to Dr. Sharp : 

Coblenz, October 8th, 18—. 

Joseph Sharp, M. D. — You are hereby appointed Assistant 
Pliysician at the Reserve Hospital at Snarbrucken, and will 
report yourself at the Lazaretto Commission, there showing this 
order. Your salary will be three thalers per day, besides natural 
quarters. 

By order, 

The Provincial General Physician, 
8^7i Army Corps. 

Our hero immediately took charge of the hospital at 

Saarhrucken, whilst an intimate friend, Dr. D n, 

of Philadelphia, was stationed at St. Johann, a post 
on the opposite side of the river. These places are 
known as south German towns, and being rarely 
visited by our countrymen, the consequence is that 
Americans are almost unknown to the inhabitants. 
On the first evening Dr. S. and his Philadelphia 
friend were sent under escort to the residence of a 
Mr. Neoggrath, who at the time was mayor of Saar- 
hrucken, and had discharged the duties of that 
office for the long period of forty years. It was 
soon known amongst the citizens, and also those of 
St. Johann, that two American surgeons had arrived 
in town, and were stopping at the residence of the 
mayor, and by the hour of 8 P. M. , fully ten thou- 
sand persons blockaded the street to secure a sight of 
the foreigners, and soon becoming noisy in their 
anxiety to see them the mayor, with other officials, 
visited the doctors' apartments and informed them 
they would be obliged to gratify the curiosity of the 


82 


assemblage by going upon tbe balcony to show 
themselves. Good bumoredly assenting to tbe pro- 
position, the venerable chief magistrate took one on 
either arm, and followed by the other city mag- 
nates, presented them to the vast concourse, briefly 
prefacing his introduction in these words : Fellow 
citizens, I have the honor of introducing this even- 
ing, Drs. Dillman and Sharp, surgeons from North 
America, who are the first who have ever left their 
native land to come over and assist our King’s 
surgeons in the glorious war his Majesty is wag- 
ing.” Our hero and his lively companion, who 
now imagined themselves upon the pinnacle of 
fame, were clearing their throats in advance of the 
suitable acknowledgment they designed for the re- 
spect extended to them, when they were horrified 
and wished themselves elsewhere at the exclama- 
tions of the crowd : Why, we thought they were 

black !” Oh, tertimfel! they are the same as our- 
selves ^^Dunder and blixen, we ish fooled dis 
time ! ’ ’ The disgusted physicians whose fond im- 
agination had wafted them to cloud-capped Olympus 
but a brief moment previous, now fell heavily from 
their lofty eminence, and forgetting to return their 
grateful thanks for the thrilling honor convej^ed in 
these remarks, hastily retreated to the interior of 
the hospitable mansion, not at all ambitious of a 
second summons before the j)ublic. 

Donning a national costume as a disguise, they 
ventured out the following morning to visit their 
respective hospitals, but did not succeed in eluding 


83 


the vigilance of the children, who followed them 
through the streets shouting, Mericanor,” Mer- 
icanor,” or Americans/' The excitement, how- 
ever, attending their arrival in town was gradually 
dissipated as the worthy citizens became fully con- 
vinced our medical friends were not of the Ethiopian 
hue, and they now assumed formal possession of 
their future posts of duty. Dr. Sharp found him- 
self in charge of one hundred and twenty-seven sick 
and wounded men, many of them suffering from 
badly shattered limbs, requiring immediate opera- 
tions, and his surgical skill was therefore! in active 
request. His prompt and hold system of proceed- 
ing ere long won for him the appellation of the 
American butcher," and occasionally an incident 
calling for a display of his decisive character would 
vary the ordinary routine of 'his daily rounds ; for 
example, meeting one morning the chief surgeon, 
he informed that official that at 4 P. M. he designed 
taking off the limb of a patient. At the hour stated 
the chief, with a corps of other surgeons, were in 
attendance, one of the number being introduced as 
Professor G., with the remark that he, the profes- 
sor, would perform the operation. The American 
blood of our hero commenced rising at this interfer- 
ence, and the fire flashing in his eye, he answered, 
^‘Ho, sir, he will not. I came here from America 
with a surgical reputation ; have been placed in 
charge of this hospital, and when I am unable to 
discharge the duty of a surgeon, I shall return to 
my native land." The chief having apologized for 


84 


this presumption of the German, the amputation of 
the limb was successfully effected by Joseph, and 
lieuceforth on such occasions he was not interfered 
with. 

The doctor finding a number of his patients with 
broken limbs done up in the old awkward style of 
splints, introduced those in use by a renowned Bal- 
timore surgeon, the application of which was en- 
tirely new to the German practitioners, and the 
chief was so much pleased with the improvement 
and tlie ease with which the patients could move, 
that in all the hospitals under his control our young 
friend was requested to instruct others how to apply 
them. On one occasion the Emperor William, in 
passing through Saarbrucken, visited the hospital, 
and hearing from the chief surgeon the manner in 
which the American had refused interference with 
his duty, and also of the improvements he had intro- 
duced, observed, ^‘My son, I am pleased at your 
display of self-respect, and at the relief you have 
afforded to many of our men. I will not forget you. 
I want your name and address in America, and you 
shall hear from me.'' This was of course gratify- 
ing, and a stimulant to renewed exertions. The 
only intimate acquaintance of our surgeon at this 
period was Dr. Dillman, who, as we have said, had 
charge of the hospital at St. Johann, on the opposite 
bank of the river Saar. The doctor was a quiet, 
well educated gentleman^ and of large experience, 
having for several years served in the United States 
navy. They roomed together, and Doctor Sharp 


85 


was much indebted to his companion for valuable 
assistance in both his studies and duties. When 
the labors of the day were completed, they frequent- 
ly became associates in adventures, for which the 
ancient town of Saarhrucken presented as wide a 
held as many of its more pretentious and populous 
neighbors. 

The houses here, like most of the older cities of 
the continent, are usually built of massive stone, 
and have the appearance of feudal fortresses. Car- 
pets are unknown, hut are substituted by oiled and 
painted floors, and graced with scanty furniture. 
The streets are narrow and devoid of paved foot- 
ways. Here and there the eye is refreshed with the 
view of a public square, ornamented with sparkling 
fountains, to which the inhabitants resort for water, 
and where, according to immemorial usage, the 
washing is done, and that but twice a year ; the cus- 
tom being to wash only in the spring and fall, and 
at the recurrence of these important eras, hundreds 
of young girls and staid matrons dressed in their 
traditional short blue petticoats, can be observed in 
the public squares or on the river banks, sporting 
like so many naiads, and apparently as happy as 
American maidens at a fashionable hop. Singing 
national airs, they can be seen morning and even- 
ing proceeding to these out-door laundries, carrying 
on their heads a tub, and in each hand a bucket, 
accompanied in many instances by their beaux, who 
though profuse in flattering phrases, are rarely 
known to relieve their fair companions of their bur- 
8 


86 


den. Markets are also held in the public squares, 
and surrounding them are scores of cows tied to 
wagons and burdened with harness, as the animals 
are required to perform the work of horses, and 
when a customer applies they are milked according 
to the amount desired. The customs of these prim- 
itive people are also novel in other respects. No 
single gentleman can enjoy the privilege of vis- 
iting the ladies unless engaged, and to effect an en- 
gagement are obliged first to dispatch a note to the 
fair one's house asking her acceptance of him, and 
if it be agreeable, answer is sent by the same mode 
that the proposal is accepted, when the parents of 
both parties are informed of their wishes and inten- 
tions, and they make arrangements for a certain 
day, for the friends of the contracting parties to 
meet at the bride’s residence, and if they have never 
met before, which is frequently the case, the bride’s 
mother and the young man’s father introduce them. 
After a brief conversation, if they are still of the 
same mind, they join hands in the presence of their 
friends, afterwards partaking of a supper prepared 
for the occasion, and the same evening of the follow- 
ing week the entire party meet at the residence of 
the young man’s parents to partake of supper. The 
day following this second festival, a card in the 
papers appears, and repeated three times, reading 
as follows : Frederick, eldest son of August Hans, 
butcher, is engaged to be married to Katrina, sec- 
ond daughter of Wilhelm Kline, carpenter.” The 
notice is posted outside of the police headquarters 


for three consecutive days, and the young couple 
are now allowed to visit and appear on the street 
together, a privilege they could not enjoy before 
their engagement. If the engagement he broken, 
similar notice is then published and posted, and 
they are not allowed thereafter to speak to each 
other. 

In one of the narrowest and most retired streets 
of Saarbrucken, at the period of which we write, 
stood an ancient inn, before which a ponderous 
swinging sign, bearing the full-length likeness in 
armor of Charlemagne, creaked drearily in the 
hlustry winter evenings, and its saddening tones, 
together with the gloomy oaken doors and dark 
stone walls of the structure, would appear to a way- 
farer to forebode hut meagre cheer within, hut as we 
know appearances are ever deceptive, and when on 
entering its dim hut capacious public room, the 
buxom landlady’s daughter, Katrina, lifted her 
large dark eyes from the spinning-wheel at which 
she was employed in one corner of the apartment, 
it seemed as if the feeble flickering light which illu- 
mined but partially the table on which it rested, 
acquired a tenfold brilliancy, and one sat down 
before the blazing logs in the great fl re-place with 
a sense of genuine relief in escaping from the keen 
air and the silent, desolate street without. To this 
retired spot our hero frequently repaired when 
fatigued with his arduous labors he desired to enjoy 
a quiet evening with his German pipe and mug of 
beer *, and on the occasion we have above alluded to 


88 


he occupied his customary arm-chair at the table, 
and for some weighty reason an unusual abstraction 
of manners debarred him from enjoying the winning 
glances that ever and anon beamed from the lively 
Katrina’s eyes. 

will not judge him harshly,’’ he murmured 
half audibly, ^^none know their strength till they 
are tried, and self-confidence should accompany vir- 
tue, not precede it. He will meet me here to-mor- 
row night, then all will be explained ; but the cry 
of agony from the strong man asking for charity, 
for food, I can never, never forget.” To explain : 
hut an hour before in hastening to the Charlemagne 
inn through one of the silent and desolate lanes of 
the town our friend, the doctor, had been suddenly 
stopped by a hoarse summons to halt, and immedi- 
ately a strong grasp and the fiash of a glittering 
blade bewildered him for an instant, while in the 
next, the knife fell heavily upon the stones of the 
street, and in bitter tones his ears were greeted with 
the words, 0 Grod, save me from this crime, but 
give me charity, give me food, that my child, sir, 
may not perish before my eyes.” In the uncertain 
light Doctor Sharp perceived the stranger was no 
ordinary outcast, but a noble commanding looking 
personage, and felt at once an interest to ascertain 
the motives which led to this singular adventure, 
accordingly placing two thalers in the hand of his 
recent assailant bade him relieve his wants at once, 
and favor him with an interview at the inn on the 
following night, when he might be able to afford 


89 


him additional assistance. With an earnest and 
grateful pressure of the hand his protege gave the 
required promise, and with a fervent acknowledg- 
ment of thanks, disappeared in the gloom. 


CHAPTER VII. 


They who know the most, 

Must mourn the deepest o’er the fatal truth, 

The tree of Knowledge is not that of Life. — Byron. 



►E shall now crave indulgence of the 
doctor’s friends, whilst for a brief 
season an entire new company of 
performers will occupy the stage, 
yet in making this transformation in 
scene and incident, we trust to avoid 
the ill-natured comments of a class 
famed for dispensing with common 
manners and common humanity I 
They go under the name of critics. In the strictest 
sense they may be called men of letters, their study 
as well as capacity being mostly confined to a j ust 
or an orthographical disposition of the alphabet. 
Their business is to reconnoitre the outworks of 
genius, as they have no key to the gates of nature 
or sentiment. They snuff faults from afar as crows 


90 


scent carrion, and delight to pick, and to prey, and 
to dwell upon them. They enter like wasps upon 
the gardens of literature, not to relish any fragrance 
or select any sweets, hut to pamper their malevolence 
with everything that savors of rankness or offence • 
On entering the hospitable doors of the old-fash- 
ioned inn at the appointed hour of the succeeding 
evening. Dr. Sharp found his unknown, unfortunate 
friend with folded arms, and apparently buried in 
thought, seated at one side of the comfortable fire- 
place. The physician having seated himself at the 
massive oaken table, motioned to the stranger to 
follow his example, and having first requested 
Katrina to furnish them with pipes and a bottle of 
Khenish, in a kindly tone desired the honor of his 
companion’s name. My name,” was the response, 
‘^is John Willingham, and my country, like that 
of my noble benefactor, if I am not mistaken, Amer- 
ica.” The doctor nodded assent, then added, ^^Mr. 
Willingham, I am astonished beyond measure that 
a person of apparent refinement and who has so 
much of the gentleman in his person and manner, 
should yet be reduced to such extremity in a Chris- 
tian country, and among a people distinguished for 
humanity. There must be something singular and 
extraordinary in your case, and it was from being 
impressed with that conviction that I sought the 
present interview, and also that it might enable me 
to extend you and the child of whom you spoke, 
some durable service.” The fine and expressive, 
yet sunken eyes of the stranger, glittered with tears 


91 


of gratitude at words of kindness, to which he had 
been long unaccustomed, and in tones of emotion, 
‘‘ Honored sir,'' he replied, ‘‘ How truly inscrutable 
are the ways of God whose wisdom has preserved 
me till this hour, unstained with innocent blood or 
the commission of a crime, even when the madden- 
ing fever of despair drove me from my wretched 
abode, bent upon a deed of violence not to prolong 
my own unhappy hours, but to give sustenance to 
the emaciated, fast-failing daughter, my only child, 
my only tie on earth ; yes, my benefactor, it was in 
behalf of that dear one, a maiden now of eighteen 
years, whose lips had tasted naught for eight and 
forty hours, that I raised against you, sir, a few 
hours since the murderous steel, and for which I beg 
God now and you, sir, to forgive me." A moment’s 
pause and Willingham resumed, ‘‘ To you, sir, the 
preserver of my daughter’s life, I feel it due some 
explanation should be given of the events which 
have reduced me, as you well remark, to extremity 
in a Christian land, and with your concurrence will 
narrate the past twenty years' history of my ca- 
reer." 

I shall be," returned the surgeon, extremely 
pleased to have your narrative, for be assured, an 
ingenuous confession of past errors has a greater 
charm to me, and is, in fact, more amiable than if a 
man had never strayed." 

I have strayed far and wide in judgment/' an- 
swered Willingham, ‘^but of the rectitude of my 
intentions, you shall be the judge." 


92 


History of John Willingham. 

My birthplace is Baltimore in the ancient province 
of Maryland, and Richard Willingham, a grocer of 
Commerce street in that city, is my father. He was 
of low birth and narrow capacity, but proceeding in 
the dog-trot of life and liaving a single eye to the 
acquisition of money, he became vastly rich, and 
derives a large income from houses and ground-rents 
in the city and suburbs, the fruit of his own appli- 
cation. I remember nothing of my mother nor her 
character, as she died in my infancy, and I was the 
only surviving child, but presume my father loved 
her, as he transferred his tenderness to me. The 
love of my father was not the prejudice of a parent ; 
it was not an affection ; he had a passion for mo that 
could be equalled by nothing but his vanity in my 
behalf. He resolved, he said, that there should be 
one gentleman in the family ; and with this view ho 
waived his desire to have me always in his sight, 
and sent me first to St. Mary’s and thence to Yale 
College, where I remained till I was twenty years 
of age, without anything occurring that was uncom- 
mon or deserving your attention. My father had 
infused into me a strong tincture of his own vanity 
and views. I lost even a portion of that tenderness 
and respect which I had felt in his regard. He was 
a trader, and I sighed for liis reptile state ; I looked 
down upon him as Icarus did on that very father 
from whom he had derived wings for his exalted 
flight. 


93 


My application was equal to my ambition. I was 
not merely a master, I was a critic in the classical 
languages. I relished and commented on the beau- 
ties of the Gi-reek and Latin authors ; was a connois- 
seur in the customs and manners of the ancients ; I 
could detect the slightest transgression of a sculptor 
in the folding of a Roman toga. I had the honor of 
being intimate with the great of antiquity ; I fre- 
quently sat in synod with the whole posse of hea- 
then gods on Olympus ; I had traced the system of 
nature from Aristotle and Pythagoras down to 
Epicurus and Lucretius, thence down to the modern 
Des Cartes, and I was so thorough an adept in the 
subtleties of logic that I could confute and change 
sides with an adversary without losing an inch of 
ground. I imagined that I had arrived at the very 
pinnacle of human excellence, and that fortune and 
honor were within my grasp on either hand. I 
looked on the governship or the presidency as things 
that must arrive in due season, and I was contriving 
some station more adequate to the height of my 
merits and ambition, when I received this letter : 

Son John — I have lately inquired into your life and character, 
and am sorry to find them too bad to give reasonable hope of 
amendment. Have lost my money and my child. You have 
cut yourself from my love ; I have cut you from iny fortune. To 
comfort myself, I have taken a neighbor’s widow to wife. Come 
not near me ; I will not see you. Would oray fory ou if I did 
not think it in vain. 

Richard Willingham. 

For some time after the receipt of this cruel letter 
I remained in a state of stupidity. I could not be- 


94 


lieve the testimony of my senses. But awaking at 
last from this lethargy, my soul was rent by differ- 
ent and contending passions. Whatever contempt 
I might have for the station of my father, I still 
loved his person better than riches and honors. But 
he loved me no more — he was gone, he was lost ; he 
was already dead and buried, at least to me. I 
wept aloud and bewailed him as though he had lain 
a lifeless corpse before me. At length I rose and 
wrote my father an answer, of which this in my pos- 
session is a copy : 

Sir — If you had not wished to find those faults you charge to 
an irreproachable life, you would not have given credit to scoun- 
drels who cannot judge the conduct of a gentleman ; nor con- 
demned your only child without a hearing or defence. In 
cutting me from your fortune you take only that I despise, but 
in cutting me from your love you unjustly rob me of what no 
fortune can repair. Could it be possible that a person of my 
talents and abilities should be reduced to indigence or distress; 
you, sir, are the very last man on earth to whom I would apply, 
or from whom I would deign to accept relief. But if, on the 
other hand, it should please God hereafter to visit your hard- 
heartedness with affliction and poverty, and that I, like the son 
of the blacksmith in the days of King Henry, should stand next 
the throne in dignity and honors, you will then find sir, the fond- 
est and most dutiful of children in your little known and much 
injured son, 

John Willingham. 

I began now seriously to think of the course I 
ought to take, and considering Baltimore as a sphere 
in wbieli a luminary would shine with the greatest 
lustre, I returned to that city without delay. Sell- 
ing my scant furniture and most of my books, and 
realizing in all some three hundred dollars, secured 


95 


cheap lodgings, and being but little known and re- 
flecting tbat a bidden treasure cannot be duly esti- 
mated, I daily frequented Temperly’s coffee-bouse 
amidst a promiscuous tbrong of politicians, literati 
and sportsmen. Happening bere to distinguish 
myself in argument on a few occasions, I began to 
be regarded with some favor, and one morning an 
elderly gentleman, who sat attentive in a corner, got 
up and whispered be would be glad of my company 
and a social drink in the next room. I gratefully 
obeyed the invitation, and after imbibing a glass of 
sherry — 

‘^Mr. Willingham,’’ said be, ‘^you appear to 
have but few acquaintance and may possibly want a 
friend. My fortune is small, but I have some influ- 
ence in town, and as I have taken an inclination to 
you, I should be glad to serve you. If the question 
is not too free, what is your present dependence and 
prospects ?” 

Having acknowledged bis kindness with genuine 
warmth, I frankly confessed my circumstances were 
very slender, and tbat I should be glad of any oc- 
cupation wherein I could be useful to myself and my 
employer. 

^^And pray,” he resumed, ‘‘what place would 
best suit you ?” 

hope, sir,” was my answer, ^^tbat laying 
aside the manual crafts, my education has been such, 
there is not anything for which I am not qualified.” 

^ ^ I am greatly pleased to bear it, ’ ’ replied the 
old gentleman, whose name was Bradford, ^‘and I 


96 


hope soon to bring you news that will not be disa- 
greeable.” 

In a few days Mr. Bradford again entered tlie 
cofPee-house with a smiling aspect. He beckoned 
me aside : 

^‘Willingham,” said he, “I have the pleasure 
to tell you that I have brought you the choice of two 
advantageous places. Mr. Stone, the banker, wants 
a clerk who has some proficiency in arithmetic, and 
writes a fair hand. And my good friend, Mr. Dis- 
count, the eminent merchant, would give place to a 
youth who understands the German method of book- 
keeping.” 

My friend paused, and I hung my head and was 
wholly confounded. With some hesitation I an- 
swered : 

“Perhaps, sir, you have happened on the only 
two positions in the universe of which I have no 
knowledge.” 

“Well, well, my boy,” said he, “don’t be dis- 
couraged ; I will try what further may be done in 
your behalf.” 

Within the next fortnight Mr. Bradford sent me 
a note to attend him at his lodgings in Monument 
Square. 

“ My young friend,” said he, as I entered, “I 
have now brought you the offer of two honorable 
places, one of which I trust will surely fit you. I 
have an old friend, the colonel of a regiment, now 
stationed on the Pacific coast, who has applied to 
me to recommend a person who has particularly ap- 


97 


plied himself to gunnery and engineering. The 
other is a popular merchant captain who would give 
any consideration to a young man of sense and let- 
ters, who might serve as a friend and companion, 
and who is proficient in the use of the chart and 
compass.'^ 

‘^Sir,’' said I, with a bewildered look, ‘‘I have 
been a student, as Goliath was a man of war, from 
my childhood, and if my tutors did not flatter me, 
my genius was extensive. I know all things from 
the beginning of time that the ancient or modern 
world accounted matters of valuable erudition, and 
yet I have not so much as heard of the use of any 
of these sciences now required by persons in high 
trust and commission.’' 

Mr. Bradford looked concerned and shook his 
head : 

My dear Willingham,” said he, I do not doubt 
your talent or learning, but I begin to fear whether 
they have been directed or applied to any useful 
purpose.” He pondered a moment: ‘‘Perhaps I 
might get you into holy orders if you are that way 
inclined. Are you well read in theology ?” 

“ Yes, yes, sir,” I answered briskly, “ I am per- 
fectly acquainted with the gods and manners of 
worship through all nations since the deluge.” 

“But are you,” replied the old man, “equally 
versed in the Christian dispensation ? Are you a 
master of the sense and emblematical reference that 
the Old Testament bears to the Hew?” 

“ Sir,” said I, “ often with pleasure have I dipped 

9 


98 


into the Bible, as there are many passages in it ex- 
tremely affecting, and full of imagery and the true 
sublime/' 

My dear child," said the gray-haired Bradford, 
‘‘by all I can find, you know of no one thing of 
use to yourself or any other person living, either 
with respect to this world or the world to come. 
Could you make a pin, or form a pill-box, or shape 
a cobbler's last, or do any of those things by which 
millions daily maintain themselves and families, 
you would he better off. The ways of life for which 
your studies have best pre23ared you are j)hysic and 
the law, hut then they require great expense and 
years of intense application. I have told you, Wil- 
lingham, that I am not rich, and if I Avere, it is not 
he who gives you money but he who puts you into a 
way of getting it, who does you a friendship. I am 
going to Matanzas for the establishment of my 
health, hut before I go I earnestly wish you to fix 
on some manner of employing your time, that Avill 
enable you to earn a certain subsistence, for, believe 
me, it is not speculative science, no, nor all the 
money nor jewels upon earth that make any part of 
the real wealth of this world. It is industry alone 
that constitutes the true riches of all mankind. At 
all events, let me see you again before I set out." 

I bowed and retired, the most mortified and 
dejected of beings. I cursed the vanity of my father. 
He must breed me a gentleman as though I had 
been born to no manner of end. Had I been the 
son of a cobbler, of a porter, an hostler, of the lowest 


99 


wretch who earns his bread by the sweat of his brow, 
I should not have been reduced to the worst species 
of beggary ; that of begging with sound limbs and 
a reasonable soul, the least pitied, though most piti- 
able of men, for that is the case of a poor scholar 
and a poor gentleman. One evening as I returned 
late, fatigued and disheartened, through Howard 
street, I observed a man very importunate with a 
woman who walked before me. Sometimes she would 
hurry on and again make a full stop, and earnestly 
beseech him to leave her ; but, in spite of her en- 
treaties, he stuck close to her till coming to the end 
of an alley, he suddenly seized her by the arm and 
pulled her in after him. She shrieked for help, and 
springing hastily forward and drawing a knife, I 
exclaimed, ‘‘Villain! quit the woman instantly or 
you are a dead man He perceived the glittering 
of the weapon and retiring a few paces, took out a 
pocket pistol, and discharging it full at me, turned 
and fled. The ball lodged in my left shoulder and 
I felt a brief pang, but not attending to it I offered 
my arm to the woman to escort her safely, and on 
asking her residence, was told Lexington street, 
where she conducted a millinery. We had not far 
to go and made the best speed, and on reaching the 
place were admitted by a servant maid, who ushered 
us to a back parlor. 

“ Jennie,’' said Mrs. Marcus (that was her name), 
‘ ‘ bring the gentleman some of the cordial and a 
glass. You look pale, sir; I hope you are not 
hurt?” 


100 


much, I think, madam, hut have a pain 
in my left shoulder/’ 

^ ^ Sir, this was a dreadful affair, and I owe you 
my prayers and blessings to the last hour of my life. 
Jennie, where’s Eleanor?” 

At the Miss Hodges’, madam.” 

‘‘Come,” resumed Mrs. Marcus, “I must look 
at your arm,” and removing my coat, “God pre- 
serve me, sir,” she gasped, “ I fear you are wounded 
dangerously.” “ Jennie, fly to Dr. Walton’s ; bring 
him with you ; do not come without him !” 

“ Madam,” I here remarked, “ the wound cannot 
be of consequence, but I was greatly fatigued at the 
time I had the happiness to rescue you from that 
ruffian.” 

The surgeon came, and looking at my wound, 
said something apart to Mrs. Marcus, who ordered 
Jennie to get a Are made, and warm the bed in the 
best room. 

“Sir,” said I, with a smile, although it cost me 
an effort, “you must not alarm nor put the lady 
to inconvenience.” 

“You must not think of stirring from hence at 
present,” he rejoined. ^‘The ball may cause you 
much pain to extract it. By the time your bed is 
ready I will be back with the dressings.” 

During the surgeon’s absence Mrs. Marcus, 
though weeping freely, was all attention to me, and 
I sat alternating between fears of the result and 
hopes that the adventure might lead to some lasting 
advantage. 


101 


When the doctor returned I was conducted to my 
room, and suffered great anguish in the extraction 
of the ball, and having passed a very restless night 
and being the next day seized with a delirious and 
prostrating fever, lay nearly insensible for two long 
weeks. My first remembrance at the close of this 
period is, that of beholding a very lovely lady of 
less than twenty summers arrayed in white, and 
seated at the bedside. I was bewildered and ex- 
claimed : 

Tell me, fair creature, on what world am I 
thrown 

But placing her finger to her lips, and without 
reply she rose from her seat and left the apartment, 
hut almost immediately returned accompanied by 
Mrs. Marcus. The elder lady, making no observa- 
tion, took my hand in hers, and hurst into tears. 

‘‘Ah, Mrs. Marcus,’' said I, “I fear you have 
had a troublesome guest in me.” 

“ Pray say no more,” was the rejjly, in a gracious 
tone. “We remember that trouble no more, now 
that you are conscious.” 

In the few succeeding days that I was confined to 
the room, I gave my fair friends, the mother and 
her daughter Eleanor, a brief sketch of my history ; 
and as I had now, as it were, no relation nor friend 
upon earth, this good woman and her child became 
all the world to me, and I could not forbear in my 
looks discovering to Eleanor that my feelings were 
those of the most affectionate of brothers, though I 
could not indulge in those familiar endearments 
9 * 


102 


whicli a nearness of kindred would venture to claim. 
When at length able to be about the house I re- 
quested Mrs. Marcus to make out her bill for my 
board, the surgeon’s charge, drugs and so forth, 
during my long illness, but regarding me with a 
glance of subdued reproach, she exclaimed : 

‘‘ Mr. Willingham, I think you are too generous 
to reproach us with what we owe you, and what is 
it, my child, you desire me to charge you with ? Is 
it for rescuing me from death or a shame worse tlian 
death — probably from both ? or for delivering my 
daughter from the bitter grief and distress that my 
loss must have brought upon her? Or do you 
desire to pay us for the fearful pains and sickness 
which you suffered on our account? No, Mr. Wil- 
lingham, you must not think of paying us the debts 
that we owe you, more indeed than the industry of 
our lives can ever repay.” 

I was silenced but not convinced, and determined 
to have revenge for this generosity Two days after, 
while Mrs. Marcus was at market and Eleanor had 
gone with a new hat to a young lady of distinction, 
I stepped into the shop where Jennie was in tem- 
porary waiting. I had scarcely entered when a 
sheriff’s officer appeared at the door, and gliding in, 
laid an execution on the shop for eighty-five dollars 

and cents, at the suit of a Mr. Lewis, a straw 

goods merchant. I was surprised and grieved, but 
pleasure quickly succeeded my concern, and taking 
out my wallet I immediately discharged the debt 
and costs, and bribed Jennie not to betray a syllable 


103 


of wliat had happened, to Mrs. Marcus or her 
daughter. Soon after, both ladies returned, and the 
same day before the cloth was removed at dinner, 
Jennie came in and delivered a note to her mistress. 
She perused it with apparent surprise, asked if the 
messenger was waiting, and stepped to the door. 
Again she seated herself, and without speaking, 
hurst into tears. 

‘‘^What is the matter?'’ cried Eleanor, as she 
threw her arms around her mother. 

‘^0, Eleanor, this young man distresses me 
beyond expression. He has this very day, my 
love, snatched us from instant ruin for the second 
time. I would tell you if I could speak, hut read 
that note." 

The note was signed Samuel Lewis, and stated 
how much he regretted that recent heavy losses had 
placed him under the necessity of laying an execu- 
tion on her house, without the customary notice, 
acknowledged the receipt of the amount due and 
cost, and hoped that the affair would make no dif- 
ference with respect to their future dealings. 

‘‘And why, best of women," said I to Mrs. 
Marcus, “ why should you grieve that I should 
endeavor to relieve myself from a part of that 
burden with which you have so greatly oppressed 
me? Would that it were in my power to show 
you the love I have for you ; for you and your 
daughter are the world to me, and form the only 
concern I have therein." 

“Since that is the case, Mr. Willingham," said 


104 


the milliner, smiling through her tears, ^^if you 
will admit an equal passion from one so old as I 
am, it were a pity we should ever part. Send, my 
child, this very day and discharge the debt you owe 
for lodgings. All cares are lessened by the society 
of those we love, and our satisfaction will be dou- 
bled by feeling for each other. 

I was truly delighted to accept this generous 
invitation, and without any formal agreement with 
Mrs. Marcus, all my little matters were immedi- 
ately brought home. How happy were many suc- 
ceeding days. How still more happy when con- 
trasted with the misery that ensued ! 

One evening Mrs. Marcus returned home more 
dejected than ordinary. I inquired into the cause 
with a countenance that naturally expressed the 
interest that I took in her concerns. 

‘^My dear child,’' said she, ‘‘perhaps I have 
been indiscreet, but I meant all for the best. You 
must know that I have been on a visit to your 
father.” 

“ To my father, madam?” 

“Even so. I would to heaven that he were 
worthy to be called father to such a man. I sent 
in my name with the word that I came to him on 
business of consequence I was shown to a back 
parlor where he sat in company with your step- 
mother, who has a very comely and good-natured 
countenance. Mrs. Marcus, said your father, 
pray be seated. What are your commands with 
me, madam? I came, sir, to let you know that 


105 


your son, Mr. John Willingham, has been at the 
point of death. ‘ Have you nothing to say to me, 
madam, but what concerns my son John ?’ The 
reply was, I have not, I confess, sir — but that is 
more than enough — it is interesting and affecting, 
and concerns you most nearly. Here he rose from 
his seat and taking up a hook pressed it to his lips, 
observing, ^ I swear by the virtue of this holy book, 
that I will not listen to any person who will speak 
a word in behalf of John Willingham. So, madam, 
give me leave to show you out again.’ I turned 
and said to your stepmother : 0, madam ! what 
kind of heart is yours that refuses intercession on 
this occasion? A frowning look was the only 
answer, and after being accompanied to the street 
door by your father, I simply remarked : I am 
sorry, sir, that a man of your grave and sensible 
appearance should suffer yourself to he duped by 
people whose interest it is to deceive you. With 
no other reply than an angry look, he then shut 
the door behind me, and in short, my dear child, I 
fear I have done you harm where good was in- 
tended.” 

‘‘It matters not, my dear Mrs. Marcus,” said I. 
“Very soon I trust to procure some kind of inde- 
pendent living, and while I have you and Eleanor, 
I shall want neither father nor friend.” 

Being now nearly re-established in health, I set 
out again in search after some employment that 
might suit me. As I was strolling on Fayette 
street, I observed a store on my left hand and 


106 


found it was that of Mr. Landis, a bookseller and 
printer. Stepping in, after some introductory dis- 
course, I asked him if he had occasion in the 
way of his business for a friend of mine, a gentle- 
man in distress, but a man of talents and address. 

^^Alas, sir, such creatures as you mention are a 
drug upon earth ; there is a glut of them in every 
market. I would give a half eagle per man to any 
one who will deliver me from three or four who are 
now on my hands. Not, sir, that they are idle, hut 
I can get one of these gentlemen, on whose educa- 
tion more money has been expended than at legal 
interest would maintain a decent family for years. 
I can get one of them, I say, to labor like a hack 
horse from morning to night, at less wages than I 
can hire a porter for three hours ; and then sir, they 
have all such aspects of despondency that a man 
may with less melancholy behold a death’s head, or 
an insane retreat.” 

While Landis was speaking, I made a secret vow 
against having anything to do with booksellers or 
printers for a century to come ; yet I atfected as 
easy an air as possible, and observing some females 
stitching pamphlets, I inquired if they contained 
anything new or entertaining. 

‘■‘Sir,” said Landis, this is an elaborate per- 
formance of the most eminent of our writers. I pay 
him, at the lowest, twenty-five dollars weekly, and 
could any man write with double his spirit and 
genius, I could afford to give him a hundred, for 
good writings are much like diamonds, and are 


107 


valued according to their carats ; double their weight 
and they immediately become of twenty times the 
estimation/^ 

The pamphlet consisted of one sheet sewed in 
blue paper. I paid a dime tor a copy and sat down 
to peruse it. It contained several very free remon- 
strances against the Government and the head of the 
Treasury in particular, concluding with some com- 
monplace observations in behalf of American free- 
dom and onerous taxation ; in fine, I perceived that 
it was written with more judgment than genius.'’ 

And what," said I to the publisher, will you 
give to the man who shall excel this most eminent 
of patriots upon his own subject, and in his own 
way ?" 

Give, sir," replied Landis, many thanks, and 
a proportionable extra compensation. ' ' 

‘^Enough, sir; you shall soon hear from me 
again, and for the present I wish you good day." 

On my return home I called in Monument square 
at the lodgings of Mr. Bradford, hut learned lie 
had gone to Matanzas two weeks previously. I sat 
down to my work with the determination to suc- 
ceed, and having finished the undertaking in about 
a week, and given it the title of the ‘^Weekly 
Censor," I took it directly to Mr. Landis. 

‘‘ Here," said I, ^Gs my friend’s first venture." 

‘‘I have a few moments to throwaway," was the 
reply, ‘‘ and they are at your service." 

He then took a seat, and having read a score of 
lines — 


108 


‘^Ay, ay exclaimed he, ^^your friend reverses 
the rule of the turf, and sets out at the top of his 
speed/' 

Beading further, he cried — Well supported, by 
Jupiter!" And proceeding to the third page — 
‘^this," he observed, must have been stolen from 
one of the ancients, for there is no modern could 
write like it. Well, sir, you need not give your- 
self further trouble for the present. I will print 
this first paper at my own cost. Desire your friend 
to be careful about the second. Call on me in a 
week and I think I shall be able to tell you some- 
thing that will please you." 

I rushed to my new home with the feathers of 
Mercury at my heels, and set about my second 
paper with double genius and application. My 
ideas were now expanded, my spirits sublime. All 
the thunder of Demosthenes was in my pen; all 
that I had read on the topic of liberty in popular 
governments or commonwealths occurred to my re- 
membrance. I finished my essay within the week, 
and going to Landis, he presented me with a check 
for one hundred dollars. 

“^It is more," said he, ^Hhan I have ever paid, 
but I trust in the run not to be a loser. The 
demand for this paper has been very uncommon, 
and the sale in time may amount to twelve thou- 
sand copies. You need not be ashamed to acknow- 
ledge yourself the author. Preserve but a moiety 
of the spirit with which you have set out, and my 
own interest will instruct me to serve you effec- 
tually." 


109 


I now returned as in a triumphal chariot, and 
hastened to confide my good fortune to the two 
loved objects of my solicitude. Jennie told me her 
mistress was not at home, but Miss Eleanor was in 
her own room. I ran up and tapped at the door, 
which was opened, and I perceived Eleanor looking 
pale, with swollen and downcast eyes. Noticing 
she had been in tears, a sudden chill took posses- 
sion of all my happiness. 

What has happened, my dearest Eleanor?’' was 
my first exclamation. 

‘‘I wish you had not come at this time, Mr. 
Willingham,” she coldly replied; but you will 
permit me to retain my grief to myself.” 

‘‘If it be your pleasure, most certainly Miss 
Eleanor.” 

“ Mr. Willingham,” she exclaimed with an im- 
ploring look, “ your soul is too generous, I dare 
not tell you ; but we must part — indeed we must — 
we must part Mr. Willingham, and that at once.” 

Here her voice failed, and throwing herself into a 
chair, she gave vent to a flood of tears. For a 
moment I stood astonished, and then dropping on 
one knee beside her, awaited the suspension of her 
grief. Perceiving my position — ■ 

“Eise, sir,” she cried, “ I entreat you, and take 
a seat near me whilst I will endeavor to tell you the 
cause of this distress. This morning I was at the 
Misses Hodges ; they are sincere friends of mother 
and myself, and told me Avith much concern of 
whispers in the neighborhood that mother had 
10 


110 


entertained a young gentleman in the house who 
was admitted to very familiar intimacies, and that 
the consequence of such reports must he detrimental. 
Now, Mr. Willingham, I am not ashamed to confess 
that I have nothing in heaven hut my innocence 
nor on earth but my character, and I think you 
wish me better than to desire that I should forfeit 
the one or the other. 

‘^Desire it! heavens!'’ I exclaimed, ‘‘I would 
forever guard them both to the last drop of rny 
blood!” 

‘‘But, alas!” resumed Eleanor, “you are the 
. man of all others whom the world would not admit 
for my champion in this case. It is painful to sep- 
arate, but a duty that must be complied with.” 

“ But, my sister, my dear girl, tell me, is there 
no other way, no expedient to satisfy a misjudging 
world, save a remedy that is worse than death 
itself?” 

“There is no other expedient,” replied the fair 
girl; “at least, no other to which I can consent.” 

“ 0, Miss Marcus, if such is indeed the case, you 
shall be obeyed. I am sensible that it would not 
be manly to be importunate. Adieu then, Eleanor, 
adieu forever ! ’ ’ 

I suddenly withdrew and gave, as I imagined, 
the farewell look. 

“Hold,” she cried, “ pray do not leave mein 
the greatest of errors. Is it possible, Mr. Willing- 
ham, that you could think I mean to slight you ? 
ah, no, sir, of all men living ! I thought only of 


Ill 


protecting my mother's name and my own. I, 
perhaps, have not understood you ; indeed, I scarce 
know what I say or mean myself, hut oh, be assured, 
I never can, nor ever did, mean any offence to our 
preserver." 

While she spoke I knelt before her, and taking 
her hand pressed it to my lips. 

My own Eleanor," said I, this very morning 
the world should not have prevailed with me to have 
accepted this hand for which I now kneel. I was 
then wretched and poor, and without resource ; and 
I could not think of bringing distress upon her, 
independent of whose happiness I could have no 
enjoyment. I was sensible that I loved you with 
truth and intensity ; hut my passion did not dare to 
admit of hope. I could have suffered all things to 
have heaped blessings on you ; but I could not be 
the instrument of trouble." 

Kise, sir, I implore you, rise," faltered Eleanor, 
while a tear glistened upon her cheek, and forgive 
me the injury I would have caused you." 

‘^Have I, my loved one," rising and handing 
her to a seat, ‘‘ the untold happiness to believe that 
my sentiments may hope for a return?" 

The beautiful countenance of Eleanor, suffused 
with blushes, rested on my arm, and I asked no 
further answer. 

When Mrs. Marcus returned, I told her of my 
extraordinary success at the publishers, and I con- 
jectured Eleanor had made known the event above 
narrated, as I observed the eyes of her mother dwelt 


112 


upon me with a fresh accession of fondness and de- 
light. Having finished my third paper, I received 
from Landis the same liberal amount, and now 
looked upon myself as in the certain receipt of a 
plentiful income, and this encouraged me to press 
for the completion of my happiness. Ere long 
Eleanor Marcus and myself were privately married 
in the presence of the Misses Hodges and two or three 
other neighbors, and I became the possessor of the 
noblest of women. 

Just as John Willingham reached this interest- 
ing portion of his narrative, the great clock in the 
hall struck eleven, and Doctor Sharp, laying down 
his pipe, observed : 

‘‘ I have become greatly interested, sir, in your 
history, but as the evening is wearing away, pardon 
me if I now interrupt you, and if to-morrow night 
will suit you to resume its continuation, it will afibrd 
me infinite pleasure to meet you at your own abode, 
and if you will furnish me with the address I will 
call promptly at the hour of eight.’’ 

The claims of gratitude, my noble young 
friend,” said Willingham, ‘‘will ever hind me to 
you, and although the wretched domicil in which 
my poor child is now screened from the keen air of 
winter, is one it grieves my soul to have you enter, 
yet your kindness will forgive the poverty of an 
outcast countryman of your own in this land of 
strangers.” 

“Do not brood over your misfortunes with too 
sensitive promptings,” rejoined the j)hysician in a 


113 


kindly tone, ‘^but enable me to come at our next 
interview prepared, in some measure, to alleviate 
them and thus saying, after receiving from John 
Willingham the required direction, with a cordial 
grasp of the hand, they separated for the night. 


CHAPTER VIII. 


A wise man poor, 

Is like a sacred book that’s never read. 

T was a cold starlight evening when 
the surgeon left his lodgings in quest of 
Willingham, and after threading many 
obscure and filthy lanes and alleys in 
the most wretched suburb of the town, 
he arrived at a miserable court, and 
pausing in front of the corner house he 
gazed up in surprise at its shattered and 
unlit windows, and noticed that the tiles 
torn from the roof lay scattered in confusion upon 
the uneven footway. The fabric which was of great 
antiquity, appeared so shackly and insecure, that 
the eye rested upon its desolate walls with a sensa- 
tion of pain and dread. It seemed indeed a very 
mockery of shelter from the frosts of winter, too 
dreary even for the beggar to prefer it to the open 
10 * 



114 


road or the inhospitable porch. The summons of 
the rusty iron knocker brought a quick response 
from Willingham, and by the flickering light of a 
candle he guided his visitor up two flights of a ruin- 
ous stairway, and opened the door of a small forlorn 
apartment, which served the double purpose of din- 
ing and drawing room. Motioning the doctor to 
one of the three seats, which, with an ordinary pine 
table, comprised the entire furniture of the apart- 
ment, John Willingham stepped into the narrow 
passage and called his daughter. Almost in an 
instant she appeared, and being introduced by her 
father as his dear and only child, Kate Willingham, 
exclaimed with warmth : 

Doctor, I scarce need introduction to the kind 
benefactor of my father, and my own preserver from 
the horrors of famine. 0 permit me, sir, to thank 
and bless you for the infinite service you have ren- 
dered us both.’' 

‘‘Be assured, my dear Miss Willingham, that 
the genuine pleasure I derive from having assisted 
a fellow-being at so critical a moment, more than 
repays me, and as an earnest of my sympathy in 
your present difficulty, allow me to place in your 
father’s hands this humble amount until a suitable 
position can he procured that will place him and his 
child at least above want. ’ ’ 

As he spoke. Doctor Sharp laid upon the table a 
purse containing forty dollars. 

Whilst the unfortunate man, unable in words to 
express his thanks, could only press his hand in 


115 


token of gratitude^ the daughter sat down and con- 
cealing her face, silently gave way to her emotion. 
Never in the history of our hero, had he came in 
contact with two beings so deeply interesting as 
those before him. The fathc?, with his broad and 
massive brow, denoting a superior intellect, and sur- 
mounting a face at once firm and gentle, was a 
man calculated to leave a marked impression on 
any one ; but the small graceful figure of Kate, 
with her resigned and truly beautiful expression, 
her finely formed mouth, and eyes that once seen 
could never be forgotten, had at once, shall we say 
attracted, no, hut fairly fascinated the susceptible 
heart of the surgeon ; his gaze could not he directed 
from her image during that memorable evening of 
his first visit, and though ten years her senior, he 
felt that henceforth, without the love of Kate Wil- 
lingham, life would be to him but an empty blank. 

Doctor Sharp, perceiving that the task devolved 
upon him of directing the feelings which oppressed 
his entertainers into another channel, after a brief 
suspense, requested Willingham to resume the nar- 
rative of his life at the point at which, on the 
previous evening it had been suspended, and taking 
a seat opposite Kate and his benefactor, he resumed : 

Job very justly says : Shall we receive good at 
the hands of Grod, and not receive evil?’' And yet, 
I imagine, that the recollection of past ha]3piness 
rather heightens than alleviates the sense of present 
distress. I had in two months after my marriage 
received about six hundred dollars on the sale of my 


116 


essays, when, on going abroad one evening, I was 
stopped within a few doors of niy house by a gen- 
teel-looking man, who asked if my name was Wil- 
lingham? It is, sir, was my answer. Then, sir, 
said he, I arrest you in the name of the State, for a 
libel against the government. Then, beckoning to 
a sergeant of police, he ‘directed me to follow him 
to prison. 

As I was not of a timorous nature nor conscious 
of the smallest tincture of the crime with which I 
was charged, I should have made hut little more 
than a jest of this business had I not feared for the 
apprehensions of those who I knew would tremble 
for me. On the way the officer informed me that my 
bookseller had betrayed me, and had confessed to 
the government that I was the author of a famous 
pamphlet, entitled The Weekly Censor.'’ Being 
delivered to the custody of the warden, I was con- 
ducted to a decent apartment, considering the place. 
I immediately sent for an eminent advocate, Wil- 
liam P. Morton, whom I had once feed in behalf of 
Mrs. Marcus ; and at the same time sent for a set 
of the Weekly Censor. 

When Mr. Morton came I put a gold eagle into 
his hand, and having told him my case, requested 
him to peruse the papers in question, and to give 
me his opinion thereon. 

Having read them with due attention, Mr. Wil- 
lingham, said he, I perceive that you are a young 
man of learning and ingenuity ; but I find that you 
are better acquainted with the republics of Greece 


117 


than with the nature and constitution of our own. 
Yet, there is nothing grossly scurrilous or malicious 
throughout these papers, nor what may amount to 
the incurring of a penalty by the most violent con- 
struction of the sense. If you are inclined to pro- 
ceed in the composition of these writings, I would 
advise you to enter bail, and to stand the action. 
But as I am persuaded the government has com- 
menced this prosecution as a matter merely in 
terrorem, to deter you from a work that gives them 
great disgust — why, if you have an influential 
friend who would solicit in your favor, and promise 
conduct in future more amenable to their wishes, 
you would undoubtedly he discharged without fur- 
ther cost or trouble. 

I returned my warm acknowledgments to the 
lawyer for his friendly counsel, and told him I would 
consider on it before I gave him any further trouble. 
When he was gone I despatched a letter to Mrs. 
Marcus, wherein I gave her an account of my pres- 
ent situation, in a manner as little alarming as 
possible. I also requested her to procure bail for 
my release at an early moment ; and from this fatal 
event I date the origin of all my troubles. 

The noble women, my Eleanor and Mrs. Marcus, 
for five days sought in vain to secure a friend will- 
ing to risk the heavy amount required, until at 
last they were directed to a professional, a barrister 
of the name of Mortimer, who for a large considera- 
tion agreed (with ulterior villainy in view) to be myy 
security. To effect this object the poor creature ^ 


118 


sacrificed their stock, and with it every dollar of their 
little savings ; and on arriving home from the prison 
I met the first cause of alarm — the shop was shut 
up ! I was shocked, and felt a sudden chillness 
come upon me, but did not venture to inquire, ex- 
cept by my eyes. But when seated at tea I could 
no longer contain myself. Leaning my head upon 
the cloth, bitter tears of anguish filled my eyes, and 
in broken tones I reproached myself with being the 
author of their common ruin ! 

Mrs. Marcus, struggling to suppress' her tears, 
exclaimed : 

Do not grieve, my child ; do not afflict yourself 
for nothing. All is as it should be. There is no 
harm done. Eleanor and I can always earn a gen- 
teel living without shop or other means than the 
work of our hands. We can never want. We have 
done nothing for you, John ; what we did was to 
relieve the anguish of our own hearts ; to bring you 
home to us again, since we have found that we could 
no longer live without you.’’ 

I perceived ere many days that Eleanor’s mother 
began to decline in health, occasioned by her late 
fatigue and anxiety of mind. I brought an able phy- 
sician to her aid, and Eleanor and myself attended 
constantly to her wants. But, alas ! our cares and 
remedies, our attention and solicitude, our prayers 
and tears, proved equally unsuccessful, and at the ter- 
mination of five months she expired within our arms. 

^ My poor wife was horror-struck, and with the excla- 
V^mation, ^‘0, my dearest, dearest motlier ! my only 
parent !” fainted upon the lifeless body. 


119 


Depend, sir, I well regarded this loss to he the 
greatest I had ever sustained, and should have sub- 
sided into a settled gloom without energy or hope, had 
it not been that the birth of this sweet child, taking 
place shortly after the death of her grandmother, 
aroused my dormant energies and gave a new direc- 
tion to my thoughts. When we had discharged 
the funeral expenses, I found the fortune of Eleanor 
and myself did not amount to fifty dollars. I was 
about leaving the house one evening when a loud 
rapping at the door caused me to change the inten- 
tion, and removing my hat I took a seat by my wife. 
Jennie answered the summons and announced that 
Mr. Mortimer was in the parlor and desired to speak 
with me. 

I went down, greatly surprised and somewhat 
alarmed at the visit. Although my release from 
prison was due to this man, yet I entertained an 
nndefinable fear and dislike of his friendship, not- 
withstanding his reputation for ability at the bar 
and his popularity in the’ political arena. My re- 
pugnance to the man arose from the fact that he was 
a confessed libertine, and his intimate associates 
men of no character. 

On entering the room, ‘‘Mr. Willingham,'' said 
he, with a familiar air, “ I have long wished to see 
you ; but I did not think it seasonable to disturb 
you during the misfortune of your family, and the 
illness of your wife. Your Weekly Censors have 
genius and spirit, but they have done some mischief 
which we wish to have remedied." 

“As how, pray, Mr. Mortimer?" 


120 


^‘Why, Mr. Willingliam, I never knew a writing 
in favor of liberty or against government measures, 
which the populace did not wrest into an agreement 
in favor of licentiousness. Now, my dear sir, we 
want you to undertake our cause ; in short, we want 
you to refute your own papers.'' 

Mr. Mortimer," I answered, should think 
it an honor to serve you or the government on any 
other occasion. But in a matter that must bring 
public infamy upon me, indeed, sir, you must excuse 
me. I should be pointed at as an apostate, a polit- 
ical prostitute by all men, and bring my person and 
writings into such disgrace, as would forever disa- 
ble me from serving either myself or the commu- 
nity." 

Well, then, sir," said he, smilingly, ‘‘I will 
not insist on a formal refutation of your own writ- 
ings. I only ask if you are willing to engage in 
our quarrel, as far as is consistent with honor and 
truth ?" 

‘"^1 am, sir," I replied, so far as is consistent 
with my own credit and the good of my country." 

The good of your country !" exclaimed Morti- 
mer ; I hope you do not think our administration 
is contrary to the good of your country? Pray, in 
what do you make this liberty consist, of which you 
are become so eminent a patron?" 

There are two sorts of liberty, Mr. Mortimer," I 
rejoined. ‘ ^ The first constitutes the duty and happi- 
ness of a man independent of community ; the second 
constitutes the privilege and happiness of a man, 


121 


merely as he is a member of any State or Common- 
wealth. Independent of a community, a man is so 
far free and no further, than he acts up to the dic- 
tates of reason and duty, but, as a member of it, he 
is so far free and no further , than as every other 
member of that community is legally restrained 
from injuring his person or encroaching on his 
property.” 

Inimitably well defined,” cried Mortimer. I 
have read volumes in folio upon this subject, but 
never knew what liberty was before. I therefore 
request you, my dear sir, to write a treatise to tlie 
purpose of your definition, and take us with you as 
far as you can. We shall not be ungrateful ; we are 
good paymasters, sir. Why do you hesitate ? Did 
you not tell me you were disposed to serve us ?” 

^‘Mr. Mortimer,” was my answer, “I fear I 
should fall greatly short of your expectations. I 
am not studied in the constitution of modern 
States ; and how shall I be able to justify any gov- 
ernment with respect to measures that, perhaps, 
are a secret to all except the cab'net ? I must fur- 
ther observe that my former field would be greatly 
contracted on this occasion. It is very easy and ob- 
vious to find fault and to call in question, but diffi- 
cult to vindicate truth itself against popular preju- 
dice.” 

‘‘Mr. Willingham,” returned the lawyer, “I 
am proud that we have got a gentleman of so much 
honesty and ingenuity to befriend us. It shall be 
my care to provide you with materials, and I am 

11 


122 


confident that so great a master of his instrument 
as you are, will make excellent music on a few fun- 
damental notes. Here are one hundred dollars as a 
retainer, and fifty dollars weekly, till we can fix 
you in some station of honor and advantage.’' 

On the third morning after this interview, Mr. 
Mortimer called in his carriage with a large bundle 
of pamphlets, and some manuscript notes and hints 
for my instruction. He breakfasted with us, and 
was easy, polite and cheerful. I now entered on 
my new province, but not with my usual ardor. 
As I had formerly lashed the insolence and rapacious- 
ness of power y less ambitious of conquest over aliens 
and enemies^ than over the very people it was chosen 
to vrotectf I now, on the other hand, rebuked with 
like acrimony the riotous, seditious propensities of a 
turbulent and unsatisfied people. I proved, from 
many authorities, derived from Greece and Rome, 
that power is never so dangerous to a populace as 
when it is taken into their own hands ; that an- 
archy is the most direct of all roads to tyranny ; and 
that an* unruly people reduce themselves to the ne- 
cessity of being crushed and insulted, whether they 
will or no. 

Now, Doctor, though I thus alternately sided 
with the people against power, and with power 
against the people, yet I struck at nothing but 
faults on either hand, and equally asserted on both 
sides of the question, the cause of my country, of 
liberty, and truth. I took five times the pains 
with these latter papers that I did with the former. 


123 


but confess I had not equal pleasure in the delivery. 
I am also persuaded that in point of sentiment, 
moral and general instruction, they were of twenty 
times the value to mankind ; yet how can that in- 
struct which is not attended to ? It was intimated 
to the people that they were written at the instance 
of officials, and they would not have listened to an 
oracle if uttered from that quarter. Six months 
elapsed in the performance of these labors, and I 
delivered to Eleanor twelve hundred dollars as the 
result of my work. We had lived with great fru- 
gality My wife had taken in as much work as 
nursing and attention to the child would admit, 
and our prospects were cheerful and happy, when 
one fatal day, Mr. Mortimer called upon me, and 
said he wanted a word with me in private. Eleanor, 
glancing at me, left the room, and Mortimer, with 
a smile, remarked : 

Yesterday, my dear fellow, I had some conver- 
sation about you, with, leaders of our party, and 
they assure me of a good position for you shortly, 
independent of your weekly pay of fifty dollars, 
while we keep you so hard at work. But tell me, 
Willingham,’’ said he, laying his hand familiarly 
on my shoulder, are you of a jealous temper ? ” 

The furthest from it, Mr. Mortimer, of any man 
breathing. ’ ’ 

‘^Oh! I am glad of that; but if you were, 
I have nothing exceptionable to propose. To be 
short, half a dozen of my friends, men of strict 
probity, have engaged me to spend a portion of to- 


124 


morrow in a pleasure party at Green Springs ; and 
we liave each of us laid a foolish wager of a hun- 
dred dollars, that from the number of his relations, 
his friends, or acquaintances, he will bring the 
prettiest woman to this field of contention. I had 
fixed on Miss Fannie Lorimer, a relation of my 
own, and a lovely creature, but she unfortunately 
happened to be pre-engaged to one of my rivals. I 
am therefore quite at a loss, and must infallibly lose 
my wager if you do not favor me with the company 
of Mrs. Willingham. With her I can make no 
question of victory ; and I give you my honor to 
place in her hands the whole sum of five hundred 
dollars, the just prize of her heauty/’ 

‘‘Why, my good friend,"' said I, “this is indeed 
a very pleasant project, and has nothing in it ex- 
ceptionable, that I can perceive, if no one was to 
know of the matter. But what will the world say 
to see Mr. Mortimer thus paired? " 

“ Pshaw, never heed the world, Willingham ! ” 
“You have the right, Mr. Mortimer," I rejoined, 
“"to scorn an inferior world, but the world has an 
equal right, and would certainly make use of it, in 
scorning my wife. " " 

“ What ! " said he, warmly, “ you will not then 
confide her to my friendship and honor ? " 

“ I will not, Mr. Mortimer, confide her unnecessa- 
rily to any man, nor to any protection but that I 
pledged her in marriage." 

“It is very well, Mr. Willingham ; you may hear 
from me to-morrow." And away he went. 


125 


He was equal to his word. The very next morn- 
ing I was arrested at his suit for the sum of twelve 
hundred and fifty dollars, the entire amount I had 
received at his hands ; and as imprisonment for 
debt was then the law of Maryland, I was hurried 
to the city jail, without being permitted to speak to 
any one. As Mortimer knew that on a trial I 
must cast him in his suit, and further come upon 
him for special damages and false detention, it 
occurred to me at once that this was merely a strata- 
gem for the ruin of Eleanor, and her defenceless 
condition gave me inexpressible anguish. I imme- 
diately wrote her an account of my situation and 
apprehensions, which unhappily for all parties were 
too well founded. But, sir, I will not afilict you 
or myself by giving a detail of these extraordinary 
days in my history. Sufficient to say that, taking 
advantage of my absence, Mr. Mortimer ]3aid my wife 
a visit ; that he had the audacity to make base over- 
tures, and to proffer her a large amount. The former 
she repulsed with scorn ; the latter she cast after 
him as he retreated, baffled and enraged. She then 
at once by the sale of furniture and other articles 
wliich she could spare, together with what she had 
put away of my earnings, raised sufficient to secure 
my release, and having finished her toilette to visit 
the prison was about leaving the house, when the 
licentious Mortimer entered. Then began the first 
act of the tragedy which shadowed our life so long ; 
he had bribed her servants and filled the kitchen 
with his dissolute followers. At once, and casting 
11 * 


126 


aside all disguise, he addressed Eleanor in terms 
loathsome to her pure nature ; and disregarding her 
pathetic appeals to his better feelings, he proceeded 
to lay rude hands upon her person. Then it was, sir, 
that stung to the quick by his insults, and with the 
aroused indignation of a faithful wife, she became 
the avenger of endangered honor by stabbing her 
brutal assailant to the heart. 

When the fatal blow was given, she ran at once 
to the cradle where the infant lay crying.; pressing 
it to her bosom she stepped softly down stairs, 
opened the outer door, rushed into the street and 
hurried on till she came to a stand of coaches, where 
she hired the first she met, sprang hastily into it 
and desired the man to drive with all speed to the 
prison. On her arrival she discharged the action 
of debt and costs attached, and then hurried up to 
my apartment. On the first glimpse I caught her 
to my arms with speechless transport ; but, finding 
the child with her, and observing her breath was 
quick and uneven, I stepped back and looked 
eagerly at her. She was pale and had a kind of 
wildness in her eyes and motions. What is the 
matter, my love, I cried ; what has happened to you ? 

‘‘ I have not been well, ''she replied, with an un- 
concerned manner before the keeper. But come 
down, dear John ; you are wanted, and the carriage 
is waiting." Nothing further was said until we got 
into the coach, when my wife desired the man to 
drive to a neighboring street, and stop at the first 
boarding house. 


127 


‘‘For lodgings again/’ I demanded; “for whom 
does my Eleanor desire to take lodgings ?” 

“For you and me, John, — for you and me,” she 
cried, wringing her hands. “ Mr, Mortimer lies 
weltering in his blood at our house, deprived of life 
by this unfortunate hand.” 

I was struck dumb with surprise and horror. 
All the consequences of this direful event whirled 
through my imagination in rapid succession. What 
would now become of my noble wife ? What in- 
dignities must have been offered her, ere she could 
be brought to perpetrate so terrible a deed ? I grew 
sick and faint with oppressive thoughts, hut in a 
few moments, having stopped at a house on Orleans 
street, I engaged a back room on the second floor, 
at one Miss Jamart’s, an old maid and mantuama- 
ker. The evening had now closed in. I dreaded 
to inquire of what I still more dreaded to understand; 
and Eleanor seemed to labor under some terrible 
oppression, hut, getting the child to sleep, and 
kneeling by its side, she broke into a violent torrent 
of tears, intermingled with convulsive sobs. I sat 
still without seeming to observe her emotion. I 
was sensible that nature needed this kindly relief. 

After indulging in a frugal supper, Eleanor gave 
me an ample narrative of all that had occurred dur- 
ing my absence. She appeared to think nothing of 
the danger of her present position, but reproached 
herself for having sent the miserable Mortimer so 
suddenly to his eternal account ! These scruples I 
reasoned away, by contending she had performed a 


123 


most meritorious act for commiseration to the wrong 
doer is cruelty to the innocent, and the one who 
spares them becomes the accomplice of all their 
future crimes. 

We now assumed the name of Stapleton. We 
had no clothes hut what we wore, and as we did 
not dare to send to our home for others, on the fol- 
lowing night I ventured abroad and purchased a 
few articles of which we stood most in need. On 
the third day, at breakfast, while Eleanor was pe- 
rusing a morning paper she had borrowed from 
Miss Jamart, she turned suddenly pale. 

What r' she cried, accused of robbery as well 
as murder ! This is hard, indeed. But I trust my 
lot shall not exceed my resignation.’' So saying, 
she handed me the journal. An advertisement it 
contained ran thus : 

‘‘Whereas, Eleanor Willingham alias Marcus, 
did, on the 15th day of September instant, barbar- 
ously stab and murder Mr. Philip Mortimer, attor- 
ney-at-law, at a house where she formerly kept a 
milliner’s shop, on Lexington street ; and whereas, 
she did further rob the person of the said Mortimer 
of a large sum of money, together witli a gold re- 
peater, a diamond ring and snuff box, and has fled 
from the pursuit of justice. Now, he it known, his 
Excellency, the G-overnor of the State, doth hereby 
promise a reward of two thousand dollars to any 
person who shall, within thirty days from the date 
of this notice, discover, arrest and lodge in safe keep- 
ing the person of the said Eleanor Willingham.” 


129 


perceive/^ said my wife, 'Hhat the compan- 
ions of the dead man will swear my life away if pos- 
sible, and their plunder of his body can no way be 
concealed, save by my condemnation. But, be it as 
it may, I have little fears but that Providence will 
protect the innocent 

I now had everything to fear for Eleanor, from 
the interested villainy of the witnesses, as well as 
from the power of the government and the resent- 
ment of influential relatives. In truth, I looked 
upon her death as certain as her trial. Had I been 
owner of the flrst estate in Maryland, I would cheer- 
fully have exchanged it for a sufficient sum to con- 
vey my loved ones to a region of safety. But, with 
the trifling wreck of our fortune escape was not 
practicable, and at the close of nine months from 
the death of Mortimer, starvation actually impended 
over us ! I had not the abiding faith of my wife, and 
if I looked up to heaven, it was without love or con- 
fldence. As Eleanor did not dare to take in work, 
nor I to stir abroad for employment, our chief en- 
tertainment was in perusing some old folio books of 
history and divinity, which I borrowed from our 
landlady. My wife had lain down one evening with 
her little girl on the bed. My brain was on fire. 
A sudden reflection started. My death, thought I, 
may yet be useful to those for whom only I could 
wish to live. Taking down an old pistol which 
hung in the corner of a closet, I stole down stairs, 
concealing the weapon in my breast, and left the 
house. I was bent on something, but I knew not 


130 


what. I had not gone far when I saw a large tav- 
ern open. I passed through the entry and running 
up-stairs, boldly entered the dining-room, where a 
numerous company of gentlemen sat with their wine 
before them. I closed the door, and producing the 
pistol exclaimed : 

Gentlemen, I starve ; I die for want ; resolve to 
relieve me or perish with me.’’ 

They fixed their eyes upon me ; hut the meagre 
frenzy which they saw in my countenance, held them 
silent. The one who was nearest directly took out 
his purse and presented it to me. I returned it^ 
and putting away my weapon — 

‘‘No, no, sir,” I cried ; “I will not take your 
gold, I am no robber ; hut give me some trifle among 
ye, to keep from the grave three creatures who famish 
in the midst of plenty.” 

As if by one consent they put their hands to their 
pockets and made up a suna of fifteen dollars. I 
beheld it as a mint of money, and grappling for it 
like a vulture, I placed it in a side pocket ; and being 
too full to thank my benefactors, I hurst into tears^ 
and turning from them got once more into the street 
without interruption. Hastening home, 1 waked 
my loved one from her sleep, and telling her heaven 
had sent us some small relief by a friend, I placed a 
dollar in her hand, and asked her to send out and 
procure sustenance for herself and child. 

Our strength and spirits recruited a little from 
this event, and one morning, as my landlady’s 
Bible lay before me, a sudden thought occurred. I 


131 


breathed to God a short and silent ejaculation, be- 
seeching him to instruct me in what I ought to do, 
by the passage upon which my thumb should hap- 
pen to rest on opening the book. I instantly made 
the venture, and found the following words : 
will arise and go to my father, and will say unto 
him. Father, I have sinned against thee, and before 
heaven, and am no more worthy to be called your 
son.’' 

Alas ! I was far from imagining at that time, 
that it was no other than my Father in heaven who 
called me, and who would thereby have directed 
and conducted me to himself. I puzzled and racked 
my memory to discover in what I had given just 
offence to my earthly progenitor, but resolved, at all 
events, to observe the admonition. 

As I was fully aware that if I knocked at the en- 
trance, or directly inquired for the old gentleman, 
I should not be admitted, I was reduced to a strat- 
agem. For several successive evenings, with my 
handkerchief tied sailor-like about my neck, and 
hat slouched, I limped with a counterfeit gait be- 
fore the house, in patient expectation of his appear- 
ance. At length on the fifth night of this exer- 
cise, the street door was opened and a male servant 
came out and accosted me : 

Is your name Willingham, sir ? ” 

Suppose it were,” said I. 

Presuming so,” replied he, have orders to 
tell you that my master is well informed of your 
proceedings ; and that if you appear again in sight 


132 


of his windows, he will send you to jail without 
ceremony, and prosecute you to the extent of the 
law/' 

We parted without another word, and I crossed 
over the way to a grocer's shop. The good woman 
who kept it, sold also the article of small ale, and 
I called for a mug and requested her company for 
a few moments. After some introductory chat, I 
asked a few questions respecting her neighbors. She 
very freely told me the history of my father and his 
present family ; and further, it was his custom on 
every Monday and Friday night to repair to a club, 
at the Golden Horse, in Franklin street, and return 
about the hour of eleven. I went home satisfied 
with this intelligence, as I knew where to find my 
unnatural parent, though his last insulting message 
had rendered me hopeless and quite averse to any 
kind of application to him. 

We had now lived a month longer on the sum I 
had received in charity ; were again reduced to the 
last shilling, and what was worse, our landlady 
became importunate for her quarter's rent. My wife 
had requested her to look out for some work in the 
line of a seamstress, and she had promised to do so, 
but for some reason never complied. 

I began now, sir, to return to my former desper- 
ate thoughts, and resolved to make war upon the 
whole race of man, rather than my wife and little 
daughter should perish in my sight ; but I reflected 
that it was more equitable to begin with a father, 
on whom nature had given me a right of depen- 


133 


dence, than to prey upon strangers, on whom 
necessity alone could give me any claim. It was 
Monday night. The clock struck ten. I took down 
the old pistol, and directed my steps to the Golden 
Horse. I patrolled near the place above an hour. 
The night was very dark, and no lamps were lit. 
At length there was a sound of distant steps, and 
soon after a voice cried murder ! robbery ! watch I 
watch ! I ran in the direction of the cry, and per- 
ceived a man on the ground, and another in the act 
of rifling his pockets. I instantly drew my pistol, 
and striking at the robber’s head with full force, I 
laid him senseless on the pavement. I then gently 
raised the other, who was bleeding and stunned by 
the blow he had received. I supported him step by 
step toward a distant lamp, and found a tavern open. 
I entered, and ordered a room with fire and lights ; 
and desired that a surgeon should be called at once. 
The gentleman, whose face was nearly covered with 
blood and dirt, began now to recover his strength, 
and having urged him to swallow a dram of spirits, 
he stepped with me up stairs, leaning on my shoul- 
der. While we sat by the fire, and a napkin and 
warm water were brought in, the stranger was pro- 
fuse in his thanks for the life which he said he owed 
me. A service he promised to recompense to the ex- 
tent of his fortune. But when he had washed and 
wiped away the blood from his countenance; heaven ! 
what was my emotion at the sight of a visage once 
so loved and revered ! All my injuries and resent- 
ments vanished instantly from my memory. I fell 
12 


134 


at his feet, exclaiming, Is it you, then, my father? 
my ever dear and lamented father I” I hurst into 
tears, and again demanded — Will you not know 
me ? Will you not acknowledge your son, your once 
beloved John — so long the comfort of your age 
and the pride of your expectations 

While I spoke, my father looked wildly and 
eagerly at me. He at length recollected me through 
all my care-worn appearance ; and hesitating, re- 
plied : 

I — I believe you are indeed my poor son John,'’ 
and leaning back, fainted away. 

The surgeon appeared at this moment, with his 
instruments and dressings, and perceiving his con- 
dition, took some blood from him, after which he 
revived and began to breathe with freedom. He 
then examined the wound and declared it so slight 
as scarce to be an excuse for keeping his room. 

When we were again alone, my father regarded 
me earnestly and compassionately, and the muscles 
of his face beginning to work, he broke into tears. 

Unnatural that I have been,” he cried, can you 
ever John, forgive me?” 

All is well, father,” I exclaimed, all is well, 
and this moment overpays my years of anguish ; it 
is like heaven, after passing the vale of death and 
mortal sufferings.” 

After inquiring into some portion of my past life, 
he called for ink and paper, and first presenting me 
with bills to the amount of two hundred and fifty 
dollars, he handed me a check on his banker for 


135 


two thousand dollars. I was about protesting 
against his generosity, when, John,” he cried, I 
see myself already overpaid in the thanks of that 
dear but meagre countenance.” The reckoning be- 
ing discharged, my father desired me to meet him 
at the same tavern the following evening ; and that 
in the meantime he would think of settling some 
certain income upon me. It was now near two 
o’clock, and the morning bitter cold. 

Eleanor had long since put her child to rest, 
and I found her in tears by the fire, scarce alive. 
She started up on my arrival, her face gleaming 
with joy, but uttered some soft reproaches for my 
absence at that hour. Meanwhile she gazed earn- 
estly and inquisitively in my face, John !” she ex- 
claimed, what is the meaning of this ? what new 
kind of countenance, dearest, is this you have 
brought home to me ? God forbid that the darling 
of my heart should have done anything criminal.” 

‘■^No, no, Eleanor,” I replied, God has been 
wonderfully gracious to me ; He blesses me for your 
sake. I have seen my father ; we are happily recon- 
ciled, and famine and affliction shall come near us 
no more.” 

After discharging our rent with the landlady next 
morning, I consulted with my wife whether she 
would choose remaining in the city, or retire to 
some remote district of the country, as we had now 
the means of escape. But reflecting on my father’s 
tenderness for me, she joined with me in thinking it 
advisable to act with his concurrence ; and I deter- 


136 


mined that very evening to reveal to him, in confi- 
dence, the whole history of our marriage and 
adventures. Meanwhile I thought it best, in all 
events to secure the means of compassing our pur- 
pose, by getting my father’s check cashed. I found 
that I had now little to fear from being known to 
any one, as my shabby apparel and emaciated limbs, 
that had baffled even the remembrance of a father, 
appeared a double security against all other eyes. 
I therefore ventured with the paper to my father’s 
banker, Mr. Stokes, and demanded payment. 

^‘My friend,” said Mr. Stokes, ^^it is not two 
hours since a stop was put to the payment of these 
funds ; and I was desired, at the same time, to put 
this letter into the hands of the party who should 
call. ’ ’ So saying, he gave me a note, which I opened 
with a trepidation that was turned into agony on 
reading the following words : 

“ To John Willingham : 

Most subtle and accursed of all contrivers 1 It was thyself, then, 
set that villain on thy foolish and fond father, by whom his blood 
was shed and his life nearly lost. I renounce you, I abjure you 
from henceforth and forever. As I shall continue to disclaim 
any tie with you here or hereafter, so may heaven continue to 
preserve me from your future plots. 

“Richard Willingham.” 

On reading this note I retired from the counter 
without speaking a word. I got home, I know not 
how ; for I neither knew what I did, nor considered 
what I was about. I walked upstairs without per- 
ceiving that I was followed. But I had scarce got 
into my room when five or six men entered almost 


137 


along with me, and one of them, stepping directly 
to my wife, cried : 

Madam, I arrest yon for murder V 

I was stunned, hut roused again in an instant. 
Catching up a poker beneath the stove, I aimed at 
a well-dressed man not wholly unknown to me, hut 
missing his head, cut him through the shoulder to 
the bone. I then flew upon the rest and dealt my 
blows with inconceivable fury and quickness. I 
cleared the room in a few seconds ; and though sev- 
eral shots were fired at me from the stairs, I chased 
them to the entry, and then returning to Eleanor, 
I barricaded the door. It was then she interfered, 
and falling upon her knees, exclaimed : 

^‘0, John, what madness has possessed you? 
Would you he guilty of actual murder through a 
rash and vain attempt to rescue from the law one 
whom neither God nor man has yet condemned ? 
This were to insure the ruin you apprehend. 

I gazed on her speechless and motionless, know- 
ing she was right. Eleanor took the weapon gently 
from my hand, and then removed every bar and ob- 
stacle to the entrance of the officers. 

‘‘'Gentlemen,'' said Eleanor, “ I deliver myself 
peaceably into your hands ; you shall find no further 
opposition to the laws." 

The officers accordingly entered the. room and in 
a respectful manner ; neither did one of them offer 
to lay a hand upon her. 

“ Good God, madam !" exclaimed the chief, “ Is 
it possible you should be guilty of the crimes laid to 
12 * 


138 


your charge by that rascal whom your husband has 
half killed ? He is carried off, and I think in my 
conscience, he has got his deserts ; as for the few 
hurts we have received, we excuse your husband, 
madam, for your sake, and we think him the better 
man for what he did. For, in truth, madam, you 
are well worth defending.’^ 

You have my thanks, sir, for your courtesy,” 
said my wife ; I am guilty of the death of a man, 
yet guilty of nothing that I would not repeat in the 
defense of virtue. But, sir,” she continued, with a 
smile, ^‘you are likely to be troubled with more 
prisoners than you look for. One of them, indeed, 
is young, and as little meaning of harm to any one 
as her mother. I must, therefore, beg your indul- 
gence in sending for a coach ; and do me the favor 
to accept this trifle to wash away any animosity 
between your men and my husband.” So saying, 
she jdaced a half eagle in the hand of the chief, who 
ordered one of the others to step for a carriage. 

I observed the men, hardened as they were, drop 
a tear of sympathy, as Eleanor, with her child in 
her arms stepped forth ; an evidence they had not 
wholly forgotten they were born of woman. A 
cloud of thick darkness again overspread my soul, 
and I cursed the meeting with my father and his 
treacherous appearance of bounty, which had served 
only to bring this decisive ruin upon us. Being 
conducted to prison, a tolerable apartment was 
awarded us, through the kindness of the warden ; 
and the day following, I procured copies of the de- 


139 


positions of the three witnesses — the first of whom 
was our own servant girl. I then secured two 
learned counsel in the criminal law, hut received 
little consolation from their conclusions. They 
told me that, had my wife been actually guilty of 
the robbery as alleged, she might have a chance of 
being acquitted of the murder, by being enabled to 
bribe off the evidence. But, if she was really inno- 
cent of the lesser charge, it then became tlie interest 
of the guilty witnesses to have her condemned on 
both accusations. Being conducted to the court- 
house on the morning of trial, Eleanor was extreme- 
ly pale, and her countenance downcast with a diffi- 
dence that she could not for sometime overcome. 
The concourse of people was great, and composed 
largely of the political and other friends of the de- 
ceased. A jarring murmur was heard before the 
opening of the case, and the words innocence and 
impudence were alternately spoken in whispers 
through the crowd. According to order^ Eleanor 
held up her right hand, and, in answer to the usual 
question, entered the plea of ‘‘not guilty.'' A 
painful silence now prevailed in lieu of the former 
tumult. I shall not detain you, sir, with an account 
of the examination of the two first witnesses, one of 
whom had been our own domestic, and the other 
the footman of Mr. Mortimer. They had, as I con- 
ceived at the time, unusual encouragement from the 
court, in consequence of which- glances of triumph 
and approval were freely exchanged between the 
gentry who were hostile to Eleanor, and those whose 


140 


sympathies were with the accused appeared for tlie 
moment depressed. The third witness for the State 
was then called. He was a very genteel and modest 
looking young man, and had assisted in the office of 
the deceased. 

Your honor,” said he, before giving any tes- 
timony in this case, I request that the two first wit- 
nesses he taken into custody.” 

Into custody I” ejaculated the judge ; Do you 
know what you say?” 

I do know what I say, your honor, and I repeat 
my request, that those who have testified be held in 
confinement.” 

Why, friend,” said the judge, they are as you 
are ; they are witnesses for the commonwealth against 
a criminal, and no man has a right to order them 
into custody.” 

say,” rejoined the youth, with an air still 
more determined, that they are witnesses against 
innocence, against the State, and against the laws ; 
that they are the criminals in this cause ; that I am 
evidence against them ; and I again require it of 
your honor, of the jury, and of all present, tliat they 
shall not be permitted to make their escape.” 

I am satisfied,” returned the judge, ‘‘you have 
a hostile motive in this action. If such is discovered, 
you shall receive condign j)unishment.” 

“Your honor,” replied the witness, in a severe 
and sarcastic tone, “you were not placed on the 
bench to prejudge in any cause, no more than I was 
called here to be browbeat and sentenced without 


141 


trial. If yon find I prevaricate, I will not demur 
to the worst punishment the law can inflict. But 
your honor observes I am an evidence for the State ; 
I therefore demand to be heard in the cause to which 
I am cited ; and all present shall be assured that I 
speak nothing hut the truth. And, gentlemen of 
the jury, I pray you to intercede in favor of equity 
with the court, and to see that these criminals, for 
such I affirm them to be, shall not be suffered to go 
free ; and further, that they he instantly searched, 
and all that is found about them reserved for the 
inspection of yourselves and the court."' 

Your honor," said the foreman, ‘‘I humbly 
conceive that no ill-consequence can ensue from 
searching and setting a watch over those people ; 
their testimony is already given and cannot he inval- 
idated thereby.'" 

The judge, with an unwilling demeanor, turned 
to a bailiff and desired him to restrain their liberty 
until further orders. 

‘‘Your honor," resumed the young man (his 
name was Edward Forrester), “about eighteen 
months since I took the degree of bachelor at Prince- 
ton, hut misfortunes and misunderstandings happen- 
ing in our family, I was left to he the architect of 
my own fortunes, and arriving in Baltimore I was 
engaged to read law in the office of the late Mr. 
Mortimer. He grew attached to me beyond my 
merits ; and I began to partake of his confidence at 
the period I was deprived of his friendship by his 
recent unhappy decease." lie then deposed to Mr. 


142 


Mortimer having communicated to him his designs 
against Mrs. Willingham, and that upon daring to 
remonstrate with him, Mortimer had become angry^ 
and threatened him with the loss of his favor for- 
ever. He then,” continued Forrester_, told me 
how he had gained over her maid by a large bribe 
to assist him. I felt sad and unwilling to partici- 
pate in the attorney’s actions, but I was dependent 
on his bounty, and really attached to him from 
many services he had rendered me. We adjourned 
to Mrs. Willingham’s on the appointed day, through 
an intimation from an accomplice ; Mr. Mortimer 
going upstairs, while we followed the serving-wo- 
man, Mrs. Boss, into the kitchen. I soon observed 
that the footman, whose testimony you have heard, 
was smitten with Mrs. Boss, and absorbed in con- 
versation with that person ; so, as I found myself 
extremely uneasy, I left the place unnoticed by these 
worthies, and stealing upstairs, I placed my ear to 
the door where I distinguished the voice of the 
attorney, and great heaven ! to what sentiments was 
1 then a witness ! to what proofs of innocence of the 
most exalted nature ! If it were not tedious I would 
deliver to the court, and to you, gentlemen of the 
jury, an accurate account of the language that en- 
sued.” 

Hear him — hear him — was the universal cry of 
the audience, and he was permitted by the bench, 
and desired by the jury, to speak with freedom. 

He then repeated, in a pathetic tone, all that 
passed, as before narrated, between Mortimer and 


143 


my wife. But as he drew near the tragic termina- 
tion of the scene, I could no longer bear, he said, 
the piercing cries and shrieks of one in such ex- 
tremity. But I trembled and grew faint, and has- 
tening down to the kitchen, I threw myself into a 
chair and swooned away. While I was in this 
condition and Mrs. Boss and her companion were 
busy about me, the fatal blow, as I imagine, was 
given, and the prisoner at the bar made her escape 
with her infant in her arms. When I came to, the 
woman who had placed the kettle on the stove, 
invited us to a cup of tea. At length it grew dark, 
and being all of us surprised that no lights were 
called for, we went upstairs, and the female ven- 
tured to tap gently at the door ; hut as neither word 
nor sound was heard, she turned the handle, and 
looking in gave a scream, and drew suddenly hack 
again. 

We then entered together, and as I was prepared, 
by my knowledge of the lady’s virtue, for some 
dreadful catastrophe, I was the less shocked at what 
I beheld. The floor was half covered with blood. 
Mortimer lay in the midst, already cold ; and the 
fatal steel lay beside him. We stood for some time 
in awe ; and then, with joint tears, lamented his 
fate. Mrs. Boss at length stooped down, and 
taking Mr. Mortimer’s hook from his breast pocket, 
she counted the sum of two hundred and ninety- 
seven dollars. She then took out his fine gold re- 
peater, next his gold snuff-box, and last, a large 
diamond ring from his left hand. Come, said she, 


144 


your late master’s silence gives consent, and we 
can no more/ be said to rob this piece of earth, than 
they in the mines who gather gold from the clay. 
If my mistress is ever taken, she must suffer death 
for the murder ; and she can suffer no more for 
the robbery and twenty such matters together. 
So if you be of my council, we will comfort our- 
selves for this melancholy business, and share a 
prize among us that no one else had a right to, and 
that nobody will want. 

These subtle arguments prevailed speedily with 
Kobert, the footman. I was dispirited — I was af- 
frighted. I saw before me a scene of blood and 
slaughter ; and I doubted not that, if I refused 
them, I should be made a second victim to their re- 
sentment and avarice. I pretended to value the 
watch at an enormous value, and that I should do 
well if I got that for my dividend. 

Mrs. Ross then went to her mistress’s drawers, 
and taking half a dozen silver spoons, a handsome 
tea set, and several articles in lace and fine cambric, 
she laid them before us, and observed that her 
mistress would not call in a hurry to demand them, 
and that the landlord would take all if we did 
not share the spoils. She then made a division ; 
compelling me to accept the watch and snuff-box. 
The contents of the purse were given entire to 
Robert, she retaining the diamond ring and the 
plunder of the drawers. 

While Forrester was giving this testimony, the 
foreman of the jury, turning to the bailiff, remarked. 


145 


Do us the favor to search the pockets of your pris- 
oners. Place what you may find in two hats, and 
hand them up to us.^’ 

This being done, Mr. Forrester was requested to 
proceed. 

‘‘I have little further to say,'^ continued he. 
‘‘Here is Mr. Mortimer’s watch, and here m his 
snuff-box. They are known beyond question to many 
now in court ; and I bless God that I have been 
enabled to preserve them for the vindication of in- 
nocence and the triumph of virtue at this moment.” 

Here the witness paused ; but the judge exclaimed: 
“ Come, come, I have not yet done with you, For- 
rester ! Tell the jury, my wonderfully honest 
friend, how came you to keep these articles from 
their lawful owners for the long space of twelve 
months and upwards? Why did you not im- 
mediately, or long before this, give information 
against those whom you so suddenly take it into 
your head to accuse ? And why would you suf- 
fer so exceedingly a chaste and innocent lady to 
labor all this time under the infamy with which 
her character is now loaded?” 

To all these questions the j'oung man merely 
smiled ; but bowing slightly, and making a motion 
with his hands to two gentlemen who sat within 
the railing, Mr. Townsend, an upright citizen who 
then held a commission as a magistrate, arose and 
spoke as follows : 

“I wish, your honor, that I could as well satisfy 
the court, as I can the jury and others present, on 
13 


146 


the points you have named. The day succeeding 
this fatal affair, Mr. Forrester came to me, and in 
presence of Mr. Warfield here, a worthy neigh- 
bor of mine, gave a detail, almost word for word, 
of what he has deposed within the past hour ; he 
then deposited the watch and snuff-box he has ex- 
hibited in our care, and did not reclaim them till 
early this morning. At the time of the interview, 
I offered to issue warrants for the arrest of the de- 
linquents ; but Mr. Forrester most sensibly ob- 
served, that such a step would shut the door against 
justice and all knowledge of the truth ; that the 
criminals were two to one against their accuser ; that 
on the slightest alarm, they would infallibly ab- 
scond, or make away with the effects of which they 
now felt themselves in quiet possession, or contrive 
some plot to invalidate his evidence ; or, probably 
make way with him by violence, and thus deprive 
this unhappy lady of the only witness of her inno- 
cence. But, said he, if they are permitted to enter 
the court, not knowing my intentions, they will have 
no reserve nor incentive to escape. My unexpected 
testimony will confound their guilt, and they may 
carry articles about them which will serve for their 
conviction beyond any cavil. 

In the meantime, Mr. Forrester, Mr. Warfield, 
and myself were constant in our search and inquiries 
after the unfortunate prisoner at the bar, that we 
might persuade her to stand trial, and deliver her- 
self up to justice. But all our efforts proved fruitless 
till the day on which she was discovered and taken. 


147 


There being no further evidence in the case_, the 
State’s attorney now began his argument for the 
prosecution. His theory was ingenious, hut ex- 
tremely unfair, and after reciting the terrible loss 
sustained by society in the sudden and violent end 
of so useful and brilliant an ornament, concluded 
as follows : What are we offered in recompense of 
this fearful robbery of life and property ? Why, 
gentlemen of the jury, we have a new and spark- 
ling gem — the saving of the honor of a milliner. 
But if this woman is inviolate, as we are told, 
how came she to be guilty of this most horrid of 
all murders, before she knew to what extremity 
the unsuspecting Mortimer would have proceeded? 
How did she dare capitally to execute a gentle- 
man, in revenge of that for which our laws would 
not have confined a common porter ? This woman 
must certainly have been a trader in blood ; and 
her felonious intents and malice are fully shown 
in the peculiar use and inhumanity of the weapon 
with which she perpetrated the desperate deed. You 
cannot therefore, gentlemen, have any difficulty in 
according us, what the State claims, a verdict of 
guilty of murder in the first degree. I will not 
affirm with equal certainty touching the robbery ; 
but as she is capitally punishable on the first charge, 
I leave you gentlemen, to determine the second at 
jfieasure. 

Before further argument, your honor, remarked 
the foreman, addressing the court, permit us to 
examine what we have in these hats. He then pro- 


148 


duced a long purse which had been found on the 
footman, and counted ninety dollars in gold. Mr. 
Forrester, said he, would you know Mr. Mortimer’s 
purse? If it is the purse of the deceased, rejoined 
the young man, it is of green silk, and has near the 
top a coronet, and the letter M wrought under it in 
silver twist. The very same, sir, indeed, resumed 
the foreman. And now let us see what Mrs. Boss 
might have had in her keeping. So saying, he took 
from the second hat a small box neatly stuffed with 
cotton, in which he found Mortimer’s diamond ring, 
three small gold studs, and the handles of several 
silver spoons. Mrs. Willingham, said he, to the 
accused, I imagine we have got some of your property 
among us. Pray, had you any mark to your silver- 
ware ? Yes, sir, replied my wife, with a subdued 
voice ; an M at the top for Marcus, and a 0 and E 
below for Catharine and Eleanor. Well and truly 
described, madam, and a distinguished mark in 
your favor. Gentlemen of the jury, cried the judge, 
are you prepared to retire and consult on the verdict 
in this issue? Your honor, returned the foreman, 
the learned counsel for the State, has truly observed, 
we need not leave the box for the purpose you have 
named. We are already agreed and unanimous in 
opinion. I say, and so say we all, that Eleanor 
Willingham, your honor, is not guilty ! The words 
were scarcely pronounced when the court room re- 
sounded with cheers, hats, caps, and handkerchiefs 
were tossed aloft, and the bailiffs were powerless to 
restrain the enthusiasm. The triumph was caught 


149 


and echoed by the crowds without ; and the acclama- 
tion was heard a square from the building. My wife 
arose, and turning to the jury box, her eyes dimmed 
with tears, exclaimed : I thank you gentlemen, one 
and all ; I thank you warmly for my dear infant’s and 
my husband’s sake. I could not contain my grati- 
tude, but clasping my hands — God alone can reward 
you, gentlemen, I cried. May He forever preserve 
the properties, honors, and families of the worthy 
citizens of Baltimore from violation and insult ! I 
then rose hastily ; I slipped out of the enclosure, and 
rushing up to Mr. Forrester, I caught him eagerly 
about the neck. I could not speak ; I hid my face in 
his bosom and broke into tears. He attempted to 
disengage himself, but I held him fast. I believe, 
sir, said he, you must be Mr. Willingham. I con- 
gratulate you, sir, with all my soul ; but you owe me 
nothing ; I barely did my duty. My noble friend, 
my preserver ! I cried ; I owe you more than life. 
Existence had been my greatest curse without you. 
To you alone it is owing, Forrester, that I am not 
at this moment the most unfortunate of creation, 
and that I find myself the most blessed of beings. 
Nay, you must not hope to escape me ; we never 
more must part ; and I, and all that I have, is 
yours to eternity. The crowd was now wholly intent 
on a sight of my Eleanor, and as she left the court, 
attended by Mr. Forrester and myself, they made 
way for her on either hand, and the air again rang 
with shouts and acclamations. So sincere is the 
respect that the poj^ulace pay to virtue, and such is 
Id* 


150 


their exultation when innocence rises superior to 
oppression ! 

As we were obliged to return to prison for the 
child, who had been left in charge of a female at- 
tendant, Mr. Forrester informed us on the way that 
he had been tempted to introduce himself during 
my wife’s detention ; but he feared that the discov- 
ery of any acquaintance or correspondence between 
us might prejudice Eleanor upon her trial, and he 
had therefore concluded to remain quiet until the 
day of trial. He also gave us some account of his 
family’s history, and that .since the death of Morti- 
mer, he had beou chiefly out of employ. Having 
sent for a coach, we drove home together, and Miss 
Jamart received us with warm congratulations. 
After supper our new friend made terms with the 
landlady for the street or front room on the same 
floor with ourselves, and the arrangement was a 
pleasing one for all. 

Eleanor was now at liberty to revisit her old ac- 
quaintance. She became more popular than ever, 
and took in so much work that she was obliged to 
hire a girl to attend to the child. The remembrance 
of distress and poverty had now vanished as a dream, 
and I was at the very pinnacle of human happiness. 
Mr. Forrester was very engaging in his person and 
manners. We had contracted a friendship which I 
imagined no time would sever ; and I loved him the 
better for his attention to Eleanor, whose enter- 
tainment seemed to form the chief delight of his 
life. He was, as I have said, pleasing in person. 


151 


and he daily became more amiable and engaging in 
my eyes, and yet I know not why nor wherefore I 
became uneasy. Ah I are not the real evils of life 
sufficient ? Yet man adds to them by his tendency 
to realize what is merely imaginary. Shall I make 
the unworthy confession. I became jealous, sir ; 
jealous of my truest friend and of the purest woman 
that ever blest the love of man I One evening, una- 
ble to restrain the growing strength of this unworthy 
sentiment, I betrayed in my manner an air of cold 
displeasure, and Eleanor, who was prompt to discern 
the meaning of each look, at once changed the smile 
which had greeted Forrester, into a cold reserved 
demeanor that cast a chill over any further enjoy- 
ment. Our noble young friend, who was both sen- 
sitive by nature and acute in his perceptions, soon 
left us with an embarrassed mien, and on going into 
his room the following morning to apologize for the 
abruptness of my behavior, I found the following 
note addressed to myself : 

“I leave you, dearest of friends, and I leave you forever. 
Wretch that I am I to have brought affliction on the only two for 
whom I would have lived — for whom I would have died ! Heavens 
what a fate is mine ! I voluntarily depart, and that which doubles 
my unhappiness is, partly to suspect that I have been guilty. Ah, 
fond and foolish passion! that could neither hope, nor wish, nor 
even accept of any kind of gratification, save the sight and society 
of the object of its ardor. Ah 1 let no man henceforth confide in 
his own strength. I daily beheld your Eleanor ; I daily conversed 
with, but I feaw not my danger. The gracefulness of her motions, 
the sound of her voice hourly sunk into my soul with an intoxi- 
cating delight ; and I wished, and was solicitous to become pleas- 
ing in her eyes, at the very time I would have taken the life of any 
man who had attempted. to deprive you of your full right in her 


152 


affections. This confession reaches the utmost of my fault ; but 
from what a dream of happiness has it suddenly awaked me !” 

P. S. — In the drawer of my table, on the left-hand, you will find 
another paper, sealed and addressed to you. It contains a poor 
legacy, though all that could be bequeathed by — your departed 

Edward Forrester.” 

I wept as I read this manly but pathetic epistle. 
I was agitated by emotions of self-reproach, and 
with a tide of returning confidence in jDoor Forrester. 
Would to heaven that men and angels would love 
Eleanor, I exclaimed, with a purity equal to thine. 
I found eighty-five dollars in the paper described, a 
most seasonable and yet unacceptable supply, as I 
feared from the generosity of Forrester’s nature, 
that it contained nearly all he had on earth. Upon 
this slender stock, sir, we subsisted for many weary 
months, as I could procure no employment, and my 
poor Eleanor was deprived of the means of subsist- 
ence through a confirmed rheumatism and general 
prostration of health ; and the only prospect of a 
living which finally offered itself was suddenly and 
Unfortunately removed through the death of a prom- 
ising Jad, son of a Mr. Garrett, who had engaged 
my services as a private tutor at three hundred 
dollars a year. 

The surgeon here arose, and bowing to Kate, re- 
marked : 

will not longer, Mr. Willingham, detain 
yourself and daughter this evening, as the hour is 
late, but promise you, as I am deeply absorbed in 
the narrative of your eventful life, that to-morrow 
night, and in a more comfortable abode, which I 


153 


shall endeavor to procure ere that time, I shall he 
your guest and your auditor once more ; that is, if 
my fair friend here, inclining his head to Miss 
Willingham, will permit me.’' 

“The dear, kind friend,” replied the young lady, 
“ who has proved our benefactor at so trying a pe- 
riod, may he assured what infinite pleasure it will 
afibrd us both to have him beneath our humble roof 
at all times ; and for your generous proposal, sir, to 
remove us from this home of poverty, you have the 
grateful thanks of father and myself.” 

“0, do not name it, dear Miss Willingham. It 
is extremely painful to think you should remain 
here one moment, and I beg of you to regard these 
reverses of the past as a sombre dream, to he dispelled 
by the bright sunshine of returning day.” 

The lovely features of Kate Willingham were 
averted for an instant, her lips quivered with emo- 
tion, and her expressive eyes were suffused with 
tears. Doctor Sharp, taking her hand, pressed it 
warmly, and telling Mr. Willingham he should call 
at dusk the following day to introduce them to com- 
fortable lodgings, he hastily took his departure. 


CHAPTER IX. 


HE large old rambling building, situ- 
ated on the Lorraine Strasse, in which 
the doctor had established himself 
during his stay in Saarbrucken, con- 
tained a number of excellent apart- 
ments, long bereft of tenants through 
the exigencies of war, and the worthy 
hostess, Carlotta Moltke, had more 
than once indulged in dismal sighs 
over their vacant and unprofitable condition. It 
may therefore be readily conjectured, that when at 
the morning meal, Doctor Sharp announced an 
American gentleman and his daughter, friends of 
his, were desirous of securing board in connection 
with two comfortable rooms, the great blue eyes of 
the good Carlotta fairly danced with delight, and 
the terms, for which the doctor agreed to make him- 
self responsible, were speedily arranged. 

Just as the twilight of a winter day was spreading 
its mantle over the quiet streets of the town, our 
hero, having hired a close carriage, drove to the 
door of the ruined tenement, and in twenty minutes 
the strangers were comfortably seated by a warm 
fire in their new home. After the introduction, the 

154 



155 


warm-hearted and really entertaining hostess, who 
welcomed her guests with a profound courtesy, 
hustled about with unwonted alacrity, and very soon 
a substantial repast was spread before the doctor 
and his friends. To say that John Willingham 
and his child were simply grateful for this sudden 
and happy change in their condition, would he 
feebly to express the profound and heartfelt nature 
of their emotions on this memorable evening. After 
supper, when all were once more seated near the 
genial parlor stove, Mr. Willingham, whose counte- 
nance plainly bespoke that he labored under feelings 
that words were unable to express, took the doctor’s 
hand quietly within his own, and in a faltering 
tone remarked : 

‘^Dear sir, long knowledge of mankind has 
confirmed the teachings of my youth, namely, that 
the character of a gentleman is the greatest, the 
most exalted of all characters. It is no uncommon 
thing in the world, it has been well said, sir, to 
meet with men of probity ; there are likewise a 
great many men of honor to be found, but a true 
gentleman is what one seldom sees. Everything 
that he says or does is accompanied with a manner, 
or rather a charm, that draws the admiration and 
good will of every beholder. Such, sir, without 
intent of flattery, this heart informs me, we have 
found in you. The great merit of philosophy, when 
it cannot command circumstances, is to reconcile us 
to them ; and as our thanks would ill repay you, 
and your nature would reject them with impatience, 


156 


we must be content to nurse an inward gratitude^ 
and not express it.'' 

Yes_, my dear Willingham," replied the doctor, 
‘^you have adopted the true philosophy continu- 
ing with a gay smile, and much as I have learned 
to love your daughter’s company and your own, yet 
if you name my feeble merits any more, I shall run 
away and leave you." 

And as that must never be," said Kate, we 
must even gratify you, doctor ; and now, if consis- 
tent with your pleasure, father will resume his 
little history." 

I think I informed you, sir, resumed John Wil- 
lingham, that the only gleam of hope afforded us 
.during the dark era I have portrayed, was extin- 
guished in the death of the youth, G-arrett, and my 
noble Eleanor, continuing to decline in health, with 
a delicate child to provide for, and in arrears for 
lodgings, I was again reduced to such straits that 
now, sir, at this distance of time, I regard them 
with trembling and with horror I At this time I 
regarded not how mean my occupation would be, 
provided I might earn any kind of honest bread. 
Accordingly, as I rambled through town one 
morning in search of employment, I observed a 
porter in front of a hotel door, clad in a short 
blouse, with belt and an apron before him. Pass- 
ing on, I turned into Harrison street and pur- 
chased a similar uniform, leaving my coat with 
the keeper of the place until my return. Go- 
ing through several streets, I came to a large 


157 


public house where no porter was in waiting. Enter- 
ing, I announced my position and willingness to 
work, at the clerk's office ; and in brief, with carry- 
ing messages and other light work, at the close 
of the day I returned home with ninety cents as my 
earnings. I felt a satisfaction to which I had long 
been a stranger, and that night ate heartily, talked 
cheerfully, and slept in peace. I continued this 
occupation six or eight days, in one of which I 
earned six silver quarters. I was now engaged in 
one of the lowest and least lucrative employments 
of life ; but I was content — I was cheerful. Late on 
the last evening of my occupation, as I was on my 
return home and within a few doors of my lodging, I 
was seized and assaulted by four men, who were 
porters, as I found by the sequel. I struggled the 
best I could, and got one of them under me ; but 
the rest kicked, cuffed and bruised me in a misera- 
ble manner. 

Oh ! they cried — You are a gentleman, are you? 
and yet you must steal into our business, and glean 
away the few cents by which we gain our daily 
bread ; but* we will cure you of carrying burdens, 
we warrant you." 

They would undoubtedly have murdered me had 
I not feigned death, but observing that I lay with- 
out signs of life, they made off in haste. I got 
home with difficulty, and was the same night seized 
with a violent fever, which continued upwards of 
three weeks, and when I was enabled to sit up, it 
was in a very weak and emaciated condition. In a 
14 


158 


little time I was once more able to walk about tbe 
room, and on the daj preceding that on which our 
quarter's room rent became due, Miss Jamart, whom 
I always took for a fair-weather friend, and who 
was exceedingly avaricious in disposition, entered 
our apartment with a face wherein insolence, 
hardness of heart, and contempt of our wretched 
situation was but too apparent. 

‘^Mr. Willingham,” said shej ‘‘if so be your 
name be Willingham, I suppose I am not to tell you 
that to-morrow is quarter day. And yet, if some 
people, Mr. Willingham, can’t afford to eat, I can^t 
see how they can afford to pay rent ; and so you 
know, ’tis every bit as comfortable to starve in jail 
as in lodgings. But this is nothing to the purpose. 
I am myself but a poor woman, and no better than 
richer folks ; yet, poor as I am, comparisons may 
be odious between some people and some other peo- 
ple ; and then I don’t come for charity, I come for 
nothing but my own, and that, you know, is the 
least that will satisfy anybody. If you had any- 
body else to befriend you but myself, you might 
have been in the poor-house before this ; but, as I 
was saying, I can’t be an only friend, and all 
friends at once. And I must tell you that I hate 
objects ; for I have so much pity in my nature that 
it pains me to look at them, and, above all, I can’t 
abide them in my own house. And so, as I told 
you, Mr. Constable will be here in the morning, 
and he will show you to lodgings that will fit you 
much better ; and so, Mr. Willingham and Mrs. 


159 


Willingham, if so be that your names he Willing- 
ham, I wish you both a mighty good morning/' 

And away she went without waiting an answer. 

As soon as she was gone — ‘‘John," said Eleanor, 
“ our kind landlady reminds me of the wife of hon- 
est Socrates, whom he took for the trial and exer- 
cise of his patience. Ah ! how cringing was this 
woman ! how insolent is servility when it attains 
any power I But what, I wonder, is become of our 
friends the Misses Hodges ? I would have sent to 
inquire after them, but was displeased at their neg- 
lect of us in our long illness. I will step there 
this instant, and borrow as much, at least, as will 
save us from the fangs of this fury." So saying, 
weak as she was, she left the house, but was not 
abroad hut a few moments. 

On her return I observed a heavenly radiance on 
her countenance, from which I prophesied all man- 
ner of happy success. But she was silent for some 
time, when, looking eagerly at me, she suddenly 
threw herself on my breast and hurst into tears. 

“0, John," she cried, “I had hopes that all 
would he well ; hut all is over. Our dear Misses 
Hodges were not to blame ; the eldest died suddenly 
since we saw them, and the youngest is with a dis- 
tant relation in the country. We have nothing 
further to hope nor to fear from this world. God 
seems to have shut us out by every door, and will 
neither permit the friendship, the humanity, or 
charity of others, neither our own industry or in- 
genuity to yield us a morsel of bread. 


160 


Yes/’ I answered, is evident from a chain 
of successive proofs. I see the hand of God in all 
that concerns us ; I will no longer struggle with His 
omnipotence, nor make my ignorance a sounding 
line for His unfathomed wisdom.” Thus it is, sir, 
that frail humanity will reason in moments of des- 
pair, and in the absence of that holy faith, without 
which life would be a ceaseless curse, we cast un- 
merited reproaches upon the Great Being, who 
blesses with one hand, while he apparently chastises 
with the other. 

At nine the next morning the landlady entered, in 
company with two constables and two appraisers. 
She found my wife’s work-box, the only source of 
her living, and gathering up our linen, our cloth- 
ing, our humble furniture, and a variety of articles 
which we would never have turned into money, she 
laid them before the appraisers who, on consulta- 
tion, valued them at forty dollars, being ten more 
than we owed. Thus we were turned out almost 
naked. The world, indeed, lay before us. It was 
wide and all-sufficient, as many an ill-fated wretch 
has found it, and yet nothing to our j)urpose. To 
our heart’s bitter sorrow we found it as a harbor to 
those tempest-tossed mariners, who, in the act of 
blessing their good fortune, find themselves driven 
away on suspicion of the plague. 

Hopeless, weak, and faint, we took our way, we 
knew not whither. We could think of no one living 
wlio would receive or acknowledge us. With the 
little sum left us through the sympathy of the ap- 


161 


praisers, Eleanor and I, rather than perish or he 
dependent on charity in our native city, determined 
if our strength would only permit, to travel on foot 
to Philadelphia, carrying poor little Kate, when 
unable to keep up with us, alternately in our arms. 
The child was then three years of age, and too young 
to feel sorrow. She crowed with delight when the 
fresh air of the country first fanned her cheeks, and 
she felt herself roaming at pleasure through the 
green shady lanes that greeted us at intervals. I 
will not weary you, sir, with the details of the tire- 
some journey of nearly a week, ere we reached our 
destination. Suffice it that the various sums ex- 
pended for rest and refreshments at roadside inns 
and farm-houses made such inroads on our humble 
means, that barely six dollars remained to procure 
shelter and food in the vast city for my Eleanor and 
Kate. Great as the strain upon her already weak 
and enfeebled constitution had been to my faithful 
companion, no murmur escaped her lips. The sweet 
look of resignation with which she surveyed our 
small ill-furnished room displayed the same une- 
qualed fortitude, the same undying affection that 
marked her whole previous history. As faith clings 
the more to the cross of life while the waste of 
waters deepen around her steps, so love clasps that 
which is its hope and comfort the closer, for the 
desert which surrounds and the dangers which 
harass its way. My loved ones and myself, sir, 
remained residents of Philadelpliia for more than 
three years, many times the victims of the most 
14 * 


162 


grinding poverty according as numberless preca- 
rious positions were lost and won. At length, tired 
of incessant labor and no profit, we concluded with 
the slender fund which our joint industry had lain 
by, to see if our condition might not be bettered in 
New York. 

Now I desire, dear sir, to depict my wife as a 
great, not a perfect character ; therefore, whilst 
Eleanor was a virtuous, a noble, and industrious 
woman, she was yet a proud one, and there is no 
more degraded nature than that which entertains no 
sense of honest pride ! I love no man — I trust no 
man, be he priest, parson, or layman, who wastes 
his foolscap in foolish homilies against that exalted 
trait, which in the darkest, the most perilous hour, 
has preserved the honor of woman and the integrity 
of man. To Eleanor, therefore, long accustomed as 
she might be to lowly fare and humble apparel, 
fortune was yet an advantage she could not con- 
template with disdain, nor resign without reluct- 
ance. Though she cared but little for personal 
comfort or appearance, she nourished fond anticipa- 
tions of placing her only child in a sphere of life 
more propitious and freer from the dangers of 
adversity than she herself had been permitted to 
occupy. 

Actuated by this laudable ambition, on arriving 
in New York the chief solicitude of Eleanor was to 
secure with her scanty capital an eligible stand for 
millinery and notions, which purpose was effected 
in three days after reaching the city, having fortu- 


163 


nately heard of a vacant place on Carmine street, 
and in a lively neighborhood. Fortune at this 
period appeared to regard us with a more favorable 
aspect than it had for years. The autumn was just 
opening, the city was unusually thronged with 
strangers, business accordingly received an addi- 
tional impetus, my loved one was kept constantly 
engaged, and I was gratified with a reporter’s posi- 
tion on a leading weekly, the pay of which enabled 
me to assist Eleanor in making many little profit- 
able ventures, thereby adding to her stock and en- 
hancing the sunshine of happiness which now 
beamed upon her exertions. Need I say, sir, how 
greatly my own daily labors were lightened, and 
with what joy my heart was filled when I perceived 
once more the rose return to the cheek of my loved 
one, and the old joyous smile again enliven those 
features. Ah ! sir, if the great Pericles derived all 
the powers of his oratory and the elegance of his 
taste from the example and instructions of the lovely 
Aspasia ; and the Gracchi caught the spirit of their 
eloquence and the fire of tlieir patriotism from their 
mother Cornelia, so, from the virtues of my own 
Eleanor, did I derive at this period the ambition to 
excel in the duties of my new vocation, and the in- 
centive to lavish upon her the manly affection of one 
who felt how truly she had been his preserver in the 
dark hours of the past. But alas ! as the poet well 
observes : 

“ Who hath not known ill-fortune, never knew 
Himself or his own virtue.” 


164 


And after a brief season of prosperity the fortitude 
of our attachment was again to be tested in the 
crucible of adversity. Little more than two years 
after our circumstances had taken this favorable 
turn, a signal calamity befell us. jlu one of the 
coldest winter nights I ever experienced, an acci- 
dental fire in a neighbor’s house so baffled the exer- 
tions of the fire department, that ere the destructive 
element c )uld be mastered, some nine or ten stores 
and dwellings, including our own, were left with 
their naked walls only as a memento. We were 
turned, sir, into the snow-clad streets, literally 
ruined ; for unfortunately, both my wife and myself 
had overlooked the renewal of a policy which had 
expired ten days or more previous to this sad mis- 
fortune. To crown the measure of our troubles, the 
inclemency of the season and the exposure and 
anxiety of the fatal night brought on a raging 
fever, resulting in pleurisy, which confined me fully 
a month to my room, causing the loss of the re- 
porter’s j)osition, the only dependence of our little 
family from starvation. We should have been, sir, 
at this trying period absolutely houseless, but for the 
unsolicited kindness of a lady friend and customer 
of my wi.h’s, residing on Prince street, a Mrs. Edger- 
ton. This whole-souled woman, who owned the 
small dwelling in which she resided with her two 
children, near the age of our Kate, generously 
offered the use of her best room free of cost, until 
fortune should smile upon us once more ; and in my 
troubled career I have never met a truer friend. 


165 


Fortunately, too, in this exigency some two or 
three of the many business acquaintances with whom 
Eleanor had been accustomed to deal, volunteered 
to supply her with such goods as would he required 
to commence the world anew ; and through this 
means she again opened a small establishment in 
the Bowery. Yet we never prospered as before; 
neither the exertions of my noble wife nor my own 
received the reward which untiring industry might 
well have claimed. Occasional employment as an 
essayist, together with a few claims for collection at 
a trifling commission, obtained from commercial 
houses, were all that cheered me during nearly three 
years ensuing the reverse I have named ; and the 
cloud that darkened my path more than all this 
was the knowledge that the inexorable destroyer of 
our race, and of so many happy hearth-stones — con- 
sumption — had marked my beloved Eleanor for its 
victim. Has not, sir, bitter experience convinced us 
all that at every stage of life man seeks for love, 
yet finds none that endures. What affections are 
net blasted by sin, by the world’s sad changes, by 
the treachery of feeble natures, by the force of ambi- 
tion, or of avarice ? And who among us has not felt 
his own love — that went forth warm and gushing — 
falling hack in an Alpine torrent upon his heart, as 
he has viewed the dull earth close upon remains 
dearer to him than life ? 

Brave Eleanor, prompted by a higher and holier 
sentiment of affection for her husband and child 
than for herself, continued to struggle against the 


166 


advances of the insidious disease, until she was 
warned by an eminent medical adviser that a sea- 
voyage was the absolute necessity, if she desired to 
prolong existence even for a brief season. Reluc- 
tantly she consented to close out her humble stock 
at public sale, the proceeds of which realized about 
two hundred dollars more than the cost of our pas- 
sage to Liverpool, where we arrived in twelve days 
after leaving the East river. Our child was now a 
strong hearty girl of ten years, and encountered 
the winds and waves of the Atlantic without an 
hour’s illness, as also did Eleanor, who touched the 
British soil apparently stronger and more cheerful 
than she had appeared for many months. 

After remaining one week in the great commer- 
cial seaport, and finding it afibrded but little in- 
ducements to a stranger, we agreed to travel by 
railway to London, and see if my talents and in- 
dustry, our sole dependence in future, would not 
find in the great metropolis a field for their exercise. 

Well has it been said, ‘Hhat to one of observa- 
tion and reflection and adequate knowledge, every- 
thing in London is suggestive.” In her external 
features we read the history of her past and the 
description of her present social state. 0 ! mighty 
and wonderful city ! a scene of real sublimity un- 
equaled in the world ! And here, sir, I must say, 
unknown as I was to any living soul, amongst more 
than three millions of animated beings, with the 
two helpless loved ones, who constituted my only 
ties to earth, depending upon my strong will for 


167 


bread, I felt, though really alone^ amidst its moving 
masses, a renewed life, and less disconcerted than at 
any former period. For here, sir, is not only every 
man’s house his castle, but there is an exhilarating 
sense of freedom not experienced elsewhere among 
the habitations of men ; whether strolling abroad, 
or seated with wife and child beneath his humble 
roof, he will find none of this toiling multitude to 
inquire with offensive curiosity into his motives, 
his intentions, or his actions ; whether he be a 
homeless wanderer, or possessed of millions in con- 
sols, or landed property, is equally a matter of 
indifference ; and neither the owners of faded dresses 
nor ragged coats are obliged to bury themselves in 
oblivion for fear of inquisitive eyes or wagging 
tongues ! 

In one of the many narrow streets or courts, on 
the south side of Ludgate street, adjacent to the 
Stationer’s Hall, I engaged two decent rooms with 
a widow of the name of Monmouth, together with 
good substantial board at thirty shillings per week, 
and remained there during my whole residence in 
London, nearly eight years. This locality being 
within convenient distance of the Temple and Inns 
of Court, as well as of Paternoster Bow, the Strand 
and Fleet street, was one that saved me much 
tedious rambling through the intermediate and in- 
tricate avenues of the metropolis. I had adopted, 
after mature reflection, the avocation of a convey- 
ancer and copyist, knowing there was a large field 
for those pursuits in the purlieus of Gray’s and 


168 


Lincoln’s Inn, for one who was industrious and 
obliging. It may be well to state, sir, that there is 
to-day nearly eleven thousand attorneys in Eng- 
land who practise in the courts of law and equity at 
Westminster, four thousand of whom reside in 
London or its suburbs, and the majority of these 
have their offices within half-a-mile of Lincoln’s Inn. 
The larger number of country lawyers employ Lon- 
don attorneys to transact their court business, and 
this being the law-quarter of the metropolis, both 
for convenience and dispatch, it is an important ob- 
ject for members of the bar to have their offices in 
its vicinity. The chambers attached to the Courts of 
Law are principally in the Temple and in Lincoln’s 
Inn ; those of the Courts of Chancery and Exchequer 
in Chancery Lane, and not a step can be taken in 
suits of law without resorting to one or other of 
these offices. Whilst suits in Chancery, as in our 
own country, ‘‘drag their slow length along” for 
years, it cannot be denied that in the great criminal 
court of the metropolis — the Old Bailey — that chief 
essential, speedy justice, is dealt out alike to all ; and 
around this noted spot, and the adjacent frowning 
walls of Newgate, the same scene is constantly pre- 
sented : Crowds of merchants and professional men, 
fretting at the loss of valuable time ; country farm- 
ers, looking anxious and puzzled, and gaping 
rustics appearing even more foolish than ever ; 
together with numbers of small tradesmen, whose 
Sunday coats are evidently donned for the occasion, 
and these, with policemen, members of the swell 


169 


mob, sneak thieves, gamesters, and abandoned 
females, constitute a picture more mournful than 
gratifying to the sensitive observer. I bad been but 
a few days in the city, when an old and intimate 
acquaintance of Mrs. Monmouth and her deceased 
husband, a Mr. Goodwin, of the law firm of Goodwin 
& Morley, paid a brief visit, as he frequently did, en 
route from his office in Chancery Lane to his neat 
cottage at Camden Town. 

Very thoughtfully my kind landlady, after intro- 
ducing Eleanor and myself, suggested to the attor- 
ney that I could doubtless be of valuable assistance 
provided his firm had need of one experienced in 
any kind of legal copying or conveyancing. The 
old gentleman, whom I afterwards found had a most 
lucrative practice, at once replied that Mr. Morley 
and himself had immediate need of a settled and 
reliable man, who would devote his entire time to 
the avocation in question, and he was greatly pleased 
to meet me at a season of urgent necessity. 

Thus you perceive, sir, that a watchful Providence 
in this land of strangers, relieved us from anxiety 
and want, and provided my loved wife and child 
with friends and a comfortable home. The emolu- 
ments of my new position, after a few weeks’ insight, 
reached an average of at least four guineas a week; 
a sum which provided genteelly for our wants, and 
left a surplus of three and four dollars weekly for 
the savings bank. My wife, after a brief inquiry, 
heard of an eligible academy for young misses, and 
at once placed our darling girl under the care of its 
15 


170 


principal, and she progressed rapidly in her studies. 
But I shall not, doctor, dwell unnecessarily upon 
the history of myself and family during the long 
years of our residence in London, hut I will remark 
they would have proved the happiest and the most 
profitable of my existence, had not two unhappy 
incidents marred their brilliancy, and eventually 
forced me to quit its friendly shelter, to encounter 
again the dread spectre of poverty, from whose 
grasp your kindness at length released me. The 
first of the events alluded to was the death of my 
dear and faithful Eleanor, which occurred the third 
year after our arrival in England. Yet spare me 
the recital, my honored friend, of that terrible, that 
heart-rending scene. 0, would sir, that the lapse 
of years could blot that wretched day from memory ! 
But in the still hour of night, at the dawning light, 
at the meridian of day, in the crowded avenues of 
commerce, the silent recess of the forest, or, on the 
stormy waves of ocean, it is alike impracticable ! 
Oh, everywhere, and at all hours, will those lovely, 
those cherished features haunt me, ever renewing 
the vivid agony of that moment, when clasping her 
to a breaking heart, I heard the last whispered tones 
of that voice scarce audibly pronounce, I love you 
now as ever ! I go to pray for you and our darling 
Kate.’’ 

My heart is now too full to add one syllable to 
the description of this tragic event — this fearful 
hour of withered hopes, of severed ties, of more than 
death I Let me hasten through the years that in- 


in 


tervened before our meeting, to the brief recital of 
an occurrence which impelled me and my child to 
leave suddenly, and probably forever, the soil which 
contains the ashes of my sainted Eleanor ! My 
daughter, as she advanced to womanhood, her mind 
enriched with the stores of a superior education, 
with every accomplishment fitting to society, and 
with personal attractions conceded even by those of 
a higher sphere in life, was quite a favorite with a 
large circle of friends, and with none more than the 
daughters of my esteemed employer, Mr. Goodwin, 
at whose elegant and hospitable mansion she was a 
frequent visitor ; and it was here she received one 
evening, a casual introduction to Lord Villiers, a 
dissipated young nobleman, son of a distinguished 
peer, and who had scarcely attained his majority. 
Young and prepossessing in appearance, Villiers 
was yet old in the worst qualities of man, and in 
addition, had become enormously involved in debt, 
and it was to extricate himself from an impending 
execution on a cherished span of blooded horses that 
he sought, on the occasion named, the counsel of the 
eminent advocate, as his engagements would not 
permit him to call the following day in Chancery 
Lane. The free and bold address of the nobleman 
created a timid distrust in Kate, and she sought to 
avoid his glances, but it appears he became deeply 
enamored, and on his departure bribed the hostler 
wlio held his horse, to acquaint him with Miss Will- 
ingham's address. The villain’s intent was soon 
made manifest. By some means he had ascertained 


172 


that I was in the frequent habit, on pleasant even- 
ings, of visiting a noted coffee-house in Fleet street, 
for the purpose of perusing the American journals 
on file, and also that no other gentleman resided 
beneath the same roof with Kate and myself. 

The Monday night succeeding his introduction to 
my daughter, he had watched me from an opposite 
court in Ludgate street, leaving the house, and tak- 
ing my usual course in the direction of Fleet street, 
from whence he knew I would not return before the 
hour of ten. I had scarcely passed from his view, ere 
he crossed and knocked loudly at the door. Mrs. 
Monmouth, who kept no servant, answered the 
summons, and after inquiring for Miss Willingham, 
and leaving his name, he was admitted by the old 
lady and ushered into the little parlor, where Kate 
was engaged in answering a note from a lady friend. 
My daughter was somewhat surprised at this visit 
of his Lordship, but after introducing him to Mrs. 
Monmouth, courteously invited him to be seated. 
Lord Yilliers was blandness itself, for he possessed 
a certain artificial polish, a quality described by our 
countryman Irving, as a commonplace vivacity ac- 
quired by perpetually mingling in the heau monde^ 
which, in the commerce of the world, supplies the 
place of natural suavity and good humor, but is 
purchased at the expense of all original and sterling 
traits of character. By a kind of fashionable disci- 
pline the eye is taught to brighten, the lip to smile, 
and the whole countenance to emanate with the 
semblance of friendly welcome, while the bosom 


173 


warms not with a single spark of genuine kindness 
and good-will. After a half hour’s desultory con- 
versation, our landlady excusing herself, left the 
room for the evening, and the nobleman became 
more free and animated in his address. 

It would appear, sir, that it is the curse of poverty 
and humble station to be at the mercy of rank and 
power ! Thus, Lord Villiers, accustomed to arro- 
gate dominion over his fellow-men of less fortunate 
position, and to insult female honor with impunity, 
hesitated not, as he rose to take leave, to offer a 
suggestion for a future meeting at the house of a 
disreputable acquaintance. But the same spirit 
which nerved her mother’s arm to strike the infa- 
mous Mortimer to the earth, filled the bosom of 
Kate as she answered the libertine : 

Lord Villiers, ’tis a merciful God alone that 
saves you at this moment from the fate of your 
counterpart at the hands of my dead mother ! 
Were I not unarmed, I would lay you at my feet ! 
Leave, sir, instantly, and never pollute the threshold 
of my father’s house again.” 

The dissolute scion of nobility retreated before the 
disdainful glance of the girl, muttering as he closed 
the door, ‘‘ I will be revenged for this.” 

He had scarcely gone when I returned and found 
my daughter reclining on the lounge and weeping 
violently. On receiving from my child the narra- 
tive which you have heard, sir, my first impulse 
was to seek the dastard’s life at once ; but second 
thoughts impelled me to the adoption of another 
15 * 


m 


course ; although in either event, I foresaw that 
immediate flight from the country was the only al- 
ternative. My resolve, which was not communi- 
cated to Kate until after its execution, was to pub- 
licly castigate Lord Villiers in presence of his 
friends. With this view, having provided myself 
with the required means, I repaired on the follow- 
ing evening at a late hour to the Junior United 
Service Club in Regent street, a place much fre- 
quented by dissipated young bloods at all hours, 
and where I felt assured of meeting the nobleman. 
On inquiry of a pert servant in one of the corridors 
of the spacious building, I was informed his Lord- 
ship was engaged in a game of roulette in a private 
apartment and could not be disturbed ; but giving 
the lackey to understand that my business was ur- 
gent, and backing my request with a glittering 
guinea, I was speedily directed to the room, and 
finding the door unsecured, I entered without 
announcement. Villiers, with three companions 
of his own age, were so deeply absorbed in gaming 
that they did not heed my presence until I had 
placed my hand heavily upon the shoulder of the 
former. He looked up with a haughty frown and 
receded a step as he noticed my stern demeanor. 

Lord Villiers,'' said I, ‘‘you do not know me, 
nor do I regret your ignorance ; but when I tell you 
the defenceless girl whom your craven tongue dare 
insult last evening, is my daughter, sir, you will 
doubtless need no further introduction." 

“ What am I to infer," exclaimed the nobleman. 


175 

‘^from your presence here? Do you presume to 
threaten me?'^ 

Threaten I"' I rejoined, with a scornful smile. 
‘‘Men, Lord Villiers, who are outraged in their 
most sacred relations, are not expected to threaten ; 
’tis their province to execute!’^ Quick as the light- 
ning’s flash, I grasped the coward’s collar, whilst I 
applied the raw hide, which I had concealed beneath 
my coat, to his hack and shoulders with such merci- 
less severity that he fairly groaned with pain and 
begged for mercy ! 

My vengeance being sated, I cast the shrinking 
villain from me as I would a viper, remarking to his 
companions, who seemed thunder-struck and speech- 
less : 

“ Gentlemen, you will bear me witness, the chas- 
tisement of this person is as richly merited as its 
publicity.” 

Thus saying, and amid dead silence^ I left the 
club-house and hastened home. Informing Kate 
immediately of what had occurred-, I told her to be 
in readiness in the morning to take the first convey- 
ance for Dover, with the view of crossing the Chan- 
nel, as a longer residence in England would be im- 
possible, owing to the pursuit and enmity of Lord 
Villiers and his connections. My daughter ac- 
quiesced in the opinion, and was anxious to efiect 
her escape as speedily as possible from any further 
persecution at the hands of the young patrician. 
Our clothing, a few hooks, and about ninety pounds 
in money, were all we were able to transport to a 


176 


strange land ; and after taking an affecting farewell 
of our sincere and honest old friend, Mrs. Mon- 
mouth, we traveled post-haste until we reached our 
point of departure from the English coast, and with 
an hour’s detention only, found ourselves on board 
the packet for Boulogne, and with favorable winds 
soon landed on the coast of France. Passing through 
Abbeville and Amiens, in less than eight hours we 
entered Paris, the ever gay and renowned metropolis 
of France, where my daughter’s knowledge, as well 
as my own, of the native tongue, soon rendered us 
at home. Before securing an eligible boarding- 
house, we were under the necessity for three or four 
days to occupy apartments which were afforded us 
at the hotel Bristol in the Place Vendome. Extra 
expense and inconvenience were entailed on us 
through this fact ; but considerable caution is requi- 
site in the choice of a boarding-house in Paris, as in 
many of them card-playing is indulged to a consid- 
erable extent in the evenings, and unwary strangers 
may lose sums to a large amount, and the residents 
of these, though persons of fashionable exterior, are 
frequently of very indifferent character. By diligent 
inquiry, however, we found at length an excellent 
English boarding-house, on the Boulevard Prince 
Eugene, in the northern part of the metropolis. I 
was compelled to submit to a short season of idle- 
ness, before employment of a suitable nature was 
offered me ; but fortunately hearing of a vacancy in 
the office of the English journal, Gralignani’s Mes- 
senger, I made instant application and obtained the 


post, at about fifteen dollars weekly. As our living 
was moderate, this sum sufficed to pay the expenses 
of Kate and myself, and we felt once more relieved 
from anxiety and want. Yet, owing to the unfor- 
tunate war precipitated by the short-sighted policy 
of Napoleon, our happiness was of brief duration. 
The horrors of the siege are known to you, sir, and 
to the world ; and my own health as well as my 
child’s becoming greatly impaired by reason of 
scanty and unwholesome provisions ; and in addition, 
the daily and nightly dread of incendiarism and 
violence from the outlawed Communists who held 
unlimited sway for so long a period, respecting 
neither Gpd’s sanctuary nor the privacy of home, 
told, sir, with frightful effect upon every business 
interest and industry. Finally, sir, after being re- 
duced almost to penury through loss of employment 
for many months, I determined, with the few francs 
still at my disposal, to remove my child from this 
scene of horrors, although not knowing what new 
ones we might be forced to encounter elsewhere ! 
I need not say, sir, that it was with profound regret 
we turned our backs upon this beautiful city, with 
its treasures of art and industry ; the most renowned 
emporium of literature, of fashion, and pleasure the 
world can boast of. Hence, with a sigh of regret, 
as I have said, we gazed up at its walls, its towers, 
and spires, as we emerged from the Porte St. Denis. 
As there was no prospect of peace, security or em- 
ployment within the borders of the empire, our 
first steps were directed toward Belgium, with the 


178 


view of securing some occupation at Brussels ; but 
after fruitless efforts we were obliged to abandon the 
attempt to cross the frontiers in that direction, owing 
to the immense military forces, and the bands of 
stragglers who plundered and insulted defenceless 
wayfarers without restraint ; in fact, the high-roads 
were everywhere unsafe, and the whole country 
appeared demoralized. We were compelled to 
adopt a more southerly route, and after enduring 
incredible hardship, and performing a journey of 
four hundred miles almost entirely on foot, and 
going more than one day and night without food, 
we entered German territory, and finally reached 
this place, and were obliged to seek shelter in the 
first abandoned tenement we could find, as nature 
could endure the fatigue no longer. We had been 
here, sir, two days and nights, our last coin ex- 
pended, ancL without a morsel to sustain existence, 
\vhen desperation drove me to the expedient of as- 
saulting a stranger in the gloom of night, sooner 
than permit my only child to perish of hunger. 
The rest you are aware of, doctor, and I trust this 
humble narrative of the misfortunes it has been my 
portion to encounter, may not have proved uninter- 
esting ? 

^^It may well be said,'" replied the doctor, that 
^ truth is stranger than fiction,’ and the account of 
your career, from youth until the present hour, 
together with the cruel and unmerited sufferings of 
those so dear to you, would certainly form the basis 
of a romance, and I believe,” continued he, smiling 


179 


at Kate, ^Hhat your fair daughter, sir, would be 
most competent to compose such a work/’ 

^^Ah, doctor,” interrupted Kate, you misjudge 
my ability, and could I even claim the talent, the 
trials of my dear mother and ourselves, which have 
been but imperfectly narrated, would dim my eyes 
and cause my pen to drop ; and memory would bid 
me cease the task.” 

^^Ko,” observed Willingham, perceiving his 
friend somewhat embarrassed for a reply, ‘‘no, I 
am sensible my daughter nor myself would have 
little taste for the repetition and exposure to the 
world of circumstances which, as you say, partake 
of the romantic, yet in our bosoms are cherished as 
sacred and solemn truths. Many plunge into public 
affairs to which they have had a previous distaste 
from the desire of losing the memory of a private 
affliction. But with me the philosophy of manhood 
has so far conquered the ambition of youth, that 
the future presents nothing so desirable as quiet and 
seclusion from society ; and as for my loved child, 
whilst I would not wish, sir, she should be other- 
wise than gay in temperament, yet you will observe 
with longer observation, that her nature is serious, 
thoughtful, and loving, beyond most ladies of her 
age ; perhaps her solitary condition, deprived of a 
mother’s care, and her habits of constant intercourse 
with one so grave as myself has tended to strength- 
en this disposition, and that happier days, which 
God grant may soon be hers, will effect a change. 


180 


but that I am afraid^ dear sir, is but a far distant 
prospect.” 

‘‘Still, we must not indulge in gloomy views,” 
rejoined his friend ; “ and as my duties will probably 
detain me in Saarhrucken for some months, I shall 
make an effort, with your concurrence, Mr. Willing- 
ham, to find among the infiuential friends I have 
secured in town, a position agreeable to your tastes, 
and one that will afford a competence while you de- 
sire to remain here.” 

“ Doctor, I can never cease to he grateful, ” ex- 
claimed John Willingham, “for your infinite kind- 
ness, and the truly valuable aid you have rendered 
the unfortunate !” 

“ Nothing could afibrd us greater gratification,” 
said Kate, “than the opportunity of remaining 
where a daily outpouring of our thanks could be 
offered to our benefactor.” 

“No, no,” exclaimed Doctor Sharp, gaily. “ No 
thanks, for I am very confident I shall be the hap- 
piest of the trio by having you as residents of this 
old and obscure G-erman town, where one so seldom 
hears his mother tongue.” 

Thus passed pleasantly away the first evening of 
the strangers in their new abode. With the reader ’ s 
permission, we shall reserve for another chapter an 
account of new scenes and incidents in the career of 
Kate Willingham and Doctor Sharp. 


CHAPTER X. 



I FTEE, several days of diligent in- 
\ (juiry, the perseverance of Joe, as 
^we still love to name our hero, was 
^rewarded by ascertaining that a 
position consonant with the attain- 
ments and the personal choice of 
John Willingham, was open in the 
family of one of the most opulent 
and worthy citizens of Saarbrucken. 
This gentleman was a retired wine merchant, Mr. 
Casper Wittig, a widower, whose family consisted 
of two daughters, Maria Louisa and Barbara, with 
a son Ernest, a lad of sixteen years, whose educa- 
tion at Strasbourg had been interrupted by the 
events of the war, and in whose behalf the father 
was now desirous to procure the services of a com- 
petent linguist, as the young man was ambitious of 
acquiring the French and other languages. Mr. 
Wittig, who possessed a well cultivated mind, and 
was a man of sterling honor, had since the death of 
his Avife some years previously, lived a retired life, 
devoting himself exclusively to tlie care and culture 
of his children, and the dispensation of charity, 
16 


182 


which his ample fortune enabled him to indulge to 
such an extent, that it was the saying of the com- 
munity_, he was placed in that country, as the sun 
in heaven, to give comfort to all within his reach.” 
Doctor Sharp had been introduced to this noble 
and valuable citizen, on his arrival in town, at the 
residence of the chief magistrate, and knowing his 
liberality and the sums he lavished upon the educa- 
tion of his children, he now determined to call on 
him in behalf of his countryman. He accordingly, 
after breakfast one morning, strolled out to the se- 
cluded but charming suburb of the city, in which 
the mansion of Mr. Wittig was situated, and being 
courteously received by that gentleman, and making 
known the object of his visit, was greatly pleased to 
hear that just such a man of letters as he under- 
stood Mr. Willingham to be, was then required for 
his son, and he desired that he should call and see 
him at the same hour on the following day. 

With this pleasing intelligence for his friends, 
the doctor met them at supper, after the duties of the 
day, and archly informed Miss Willingham at the 
same time, ^‘she would now have the opportunity 
of cultivating the acquaintance of some rivals for a 
beauy in the persons of the old gentleman’s daugh- 
ters.” 

Kate was too happy in the contemplation of her 
father’s good fortune, to heed the raillery of the 
youthful surgeon ; and we need scarcely observe that 
the latter was more than repaid by the grateful 
smile bestowed upon him by the fair girl for his 
exertions. 


183 


The next morning, John Willingham, accompa- 
nied by his daughter, and under the escort of our 
friend Joe, waited on Mr. Wittig, who was at once 
interested and favorably impressed by the noble 
appearance and courteous address of his visitor, and 
the graceful, refined demeanor of his child. 

It needed but a casual observer to discern that 
Casper Wittig was no ordinary man, and that adven- 
titious circumstances had nothing whatever to do 
with his superiority over the mass of his townsmen ; 
the characteristics of a gentleman were indelibly 
stamped in every lineament, and he would have been 
the same in the humblest hut or the most sumptuous 
palace. True gentility is altogether independent of 
fortune or fashion, of time, customs, or opinions of 
any kind. The very same qualities that constituted 
a gentleman in the first age of the world are per- 
manently, invariably, and indispensably necessary 
to the constitution of the same character to the end 
of time. 

Mr. Willingham, although twenty years his 
junior, at once discovered in him that congeniality 
of temperament which rendered an aj)pointment in 
his household of greatly enhanced value, and on 
being introduced to his son, a noble looking and 
amiable youth, felt that his new position could not 
be other than agreeable. The terms were speedily 
arranged, and a still further agreement was made 
that Kate should have the tuition of the daughters 
in their music, which had been neglected from the 
fact that no competent teacher had been located in 
Saarbrucken for many years. 


184 


Barbara, the youngest, wbo was some nineteen 
years of age, was of a joyous and mischievous nature, 
while Maria Louisa, or Lou, as she was called, and 
who had the household management, was a stately, 
though beautiful woman, and four years her elder. 
On their introduction to Miss Willingham, they 
were at first somewhat distant in manner, but their 
reserve wore off before the interview was ended, for 
the artless ways and gentle voice of Kate had com- 
pletely won their hearts. 

Pardon us, gentle reader, for a brief digression. 
When we are forced to admit that self is the great 
prevailing principle in human ^^nature, how truly 
refreshing is it for the pen to record instances of 
those in whose bosoms that odious quality has no 
resting place ; those who live for others, not for 
themselves. It may be claimed as a principle in 
natural philosophy, that mind and matter equally 
harmonize in this regard. Every particle of matter, 
it is true, has a self, or a distinct identity, inasmuch 
as it cannot be any other particle of matter. Now, 
while it continues in this state of selfishness y or abso- 
lute distinction, it is utterly useless and insignifi- 
cant, and is to the universe as though it were not. 
It has, however, a principle of attraction (analogous 
to desire in the mind) whereby it endeavors to derive 
to itself the powers and advantages of all other po;- 
tions of matter. But when the divine intelligence 
harmonizes certain quantities of such distinct parti- 
cles into certain animal or vegetable systems, this 
principle of attraction in each is overcome, for each 


185 


becomes drawn as it were from self ; each yields up 
its powers for the benefit of the whole, and then only 
becomes capable and productive of shape, coloring, 
beauty, fiowers, fragrance and fruit. Now, observe 
that this operation in matter is no other than a man- 
ifestation of the like process in mind ; and that no 
soul was ever capable of any degree of virtue or hap- 
piness, save so far as it is drawn away in its afiec- 
tions from self, and so far as it is engaged in wishing, 
contriving, endeavoring, promoting and rejoicing in 
the welfare and happiness of others. Many noble 
instances in the sterner sex have been recorded of ex- 
emption from this besetting sin of our race. We may 
instance Leonidas and the three hundred Spartans, 
who devoted their lives for the liberties of Greece ; 
of the splendid fidelity of Damon and Pythias ; of 
the Count Vienne, the gallant Governor of Calais, 
and the six citizens who nobly offered themselves to 
the English tyrant as a ransom for tlieir country- 
men ; yet, while many other honorable examples 
might be cited, it is still indisputable that we are to 
seek in fair woman’s ranks to find daily instances of 
self-sacrifice, such as among men is an exception, 
but with women is the rule. 

The heart of Kate Willingham was one wherein 
ever}^ generous impulse combined to render her in- 
deed lovely and endearing to all who came within 
her infiuence. 

Will it then be thought strange that our suscep- 
tible hero became daily more enamored of his fair 
companion ; for such she was in many pleasant 
10 * 


186 


walks, in many long eventful drives ; and perhaps 
were we privileged to intrude upon the privacy of 
Kate’s thoughts, we should there discover a senti- 
ment akin to the pervading one which agitated the 
bosom of Joseph Sharp. Could it be possible she 
should not entertain an interest in one who had pre- 
served lier father and herself from the horrors of 
destitution — from famine itself ; in one who had so 
generously devoted every effort to enhance tlieir in- 
terest and happiness ? She could not but rejoice in 
his prosperity, and when she heard his praises, 
and watched his career, a strange thrill of pleasure 
hitherto unknown to her heart would cause her 
cheek to mantle, and at such moments the fair girl 
would ask herself, does he really regard me more 
than as a friend? And then as the remembrance of 
his earnest, subdued tones, in addressing her at 
their first memorable meeting, and the meaning 
glances of affection which since at every interview 
had greeted her, would be vividly recalled ; how 
sensibly would woman’s heart remind her that a 
sentiment more interesting than friendship con- 
trolled the surgeon’s feelings ! And shall we do 
Kate Willingham the injustice to believe that she 
was indifferent to such reflections ? All ! no, she 
was becoming more and more sensible that what- 
ever untoward reverses might yet be in store for 
her, that true love can no more be diminished by 
shovvers of evil than flowers are marred by timely 
rains ! And yet, fair reader, do not imagine that 
Kate, in giving rein to this new-born passion, was 


187 


actuated by sentiments of gratitude only ; for she 
was too intelligent a girl not to know, that it is a 
dangerous experiment to call in gratitude as an ally 
to love. Love is a debt which inclination always 
pays — obligation never ; and the moment it becomes 
lukewarm and evanescent, reminiscences on the score 
of gratitude serve only to smother the flame. Miss 
Willingham was also aware, and this is a knowledge 
ever valuable to a true woman, that in possessing 
the affections of our hero, she would not be called 
upon to fix a character volatile and light, but on 
the contrary, she would have the aid and protection 
of a thoughtful and mature nature, long versed in 
the trials and sorrows of life ; yet, with a sanguine, 
undaunted disposition, warmth of heart and high 
sense of honor, one that prosperity would not elate 
and corrupt nor adversity depress ; and, above all, 
one imbued with unswerving fidelity for the object 
of his love. And how could Joseph, basking con- 
stantly in the sunshine of those eyes, resist their 
influence or do otherwise than love ? It was a new 
opening in the book of life, and one that absorbed 
all his thoughts ; yet the surgeon had not evinced 
sufficient courage, or perhaps had not found op- 
portunity to avow his passion for Kate Willingham. 


CHAPTER XI. 



OME two months or more had now 
"fjelapsed since John Willingham and his 
daughter had assumed their new posi- 
tions at the hospitable mansion of Mr. 
Wittig ; and that gentleman, who had 
[ formed a strong attachment for Kate and 
her father, desired that his daughters 
•should invite them to a sociable given by 
them to their young lady and gentleman 
friends in the neighborhood, and which suggestion 
Lou and Barbara were rejoiced to accept, adding 
also, with the old gentleman’s hearty consent, the 
names of Joseph Sharp and Jarad W. Dillman. 
The occasion was one of unalloyed pleasure to all ; 
the younger portion of the assembly, including 
Kate and her admirer, participating in the music 
and dance, whilst Doctor Dillman, John, and their 
kind-hearted host passed the evening hours in enter- 
taining conversation on the events of the war, and 
many interesting reminiscences of their past lives. 

Mr. Wittig,” observed the doctor, ‘‘as you 
have the credit among the good people of Saar_ 
brucken of having amassed a well-deserved fortune 

in the avocation of a wine merchant, will you par- 
188 


189 


don an inquiry as to the cause of abandoning so 
profitable a calling, as I have lately understood, in 
the prime of life?’' 

Your question shall be answered. Doctor Dill- 
man, with pleasure,” rejoined Casper Wittig ; ‘^and 
I do not know that a more proper response can be 
given than a quotation from the language of that 
distinguished Englishman, Sir Walter Raleigh : 
‘Except thou desire to hasten thine end, take this 
for a general rule, that thou never add any artificial 
heat to thy body by wine or spice, until thou find 
that time hath decayed thy natural heat ; and the 
sooner thou beginnest to help nature, the sooner she 
will forsake thee and leave thee to trust altogether 
to art/ For,” continued the old man, “ temperance 
is a bridle of gold, and he who uses it rightly is 
more like a God than a man ; and to explain these 
sentiments, I will add, gentlemen, that after an ex- 
perience and thoughtful reflection of twenty-five 
years, I was led to the conclusion that the afiluence 
vouchsafed me by Providence in this injurious traf- 
fic, should he used to an honorable purpose, and 
this could he accomplished best by surrendering the 
source of my wealth and devoting the years which. 
God might ordain me on earth to works of benev- 
olence, and repairing thus, in a measure, the injury 
which the sale of this vain stimulant had undoubt- 
edly produced. This conclusion, as soon as practi- 
cable, I put in execution, and have for many years 
derived a pleasure therefrom that the possession of 
untold millions could never have afforded me.” 


190 


‘‘And a bounteous heaven/’ exclaimed John 
Willingham, “will ever continue to reward you, 
sir, for so noble a course !” 

“ Most unquestionably,” said Dr. Dillman, “such 
action is an honor to human nature, and your ex- 
ample should be followed by every right-thinking 
man ! ” 

Apropos io this subject, my friends,” resumed 
Casper Wittig, “ as I have gathered from Mr. Wil- 
lingham’s career, that woman has been his best 
friend, and I am aware from ample experience that 
wine is the friend of no one, I will cite,” continued 
he with a smile, “ as Avell as memory will serve me, 
with your assent a brief chapter from Persian 
romance:” 

“ In the reign of Darius Hystaspes, successor to 
the great Cyrus, (whom you have read of in history,) 
Darius made a great feast to all of his princes and 
nobles and the governors of his one hundred and 
twenty-seven provinces. And at the feast three 
young and princely men arose and offered to dispute 
for pre-eminence before the august assembly ; and 
the question was, ‘ what was strongest?’ And the 
first said. Wine is strongest ; and the second, the 
King is strongest ; and the third. Woman is strong- 
est. The advocate for the bottle thus began : 

“0 ye princes ! bear me testimony that wine 
gives and takes away according to its mightiness. It 
takes away the strength and capacities of nature, 
and gives powers, virtues and talents of its own ac- 
quiring. It trips up the wrestler and lays a giant 


191 


low ; it bears the feeble and the fearful into the 
midst of the battle. 

Wine is an opener of hearts and a revealer of 
secrets. It raises hope into certainty, and gives jollity 
and enjoyment in exchange for care. It unfolds the 
purse of the usurer and enriches the needy ; frees 
the prisoner from his chain and the debtor from his 
obligation. It levels the rich and the poor, the high 
and the low, the king and the clown to one temper 
and condition. It can set companies, friends, and 
brothers at variance, and cause rivals and enemies to 
embrace Wine enlarges the narrow heart, and 
thaws the frozen understanding ; to the silent and 
illiterate gives phrase and elocution. It can elevate 
the peasant from a cottage to a throne ; for he who 
is drunk is as great as an emperor. 0 ye princes I 
what in nature can be stronger than that by which 
all the powers of nature are inverted or surpassed 

And having thus spoken, he held his peace. 

Then arose the advocate for kingly dominion, and 
waving his hand, addressed the assembly : 

‘‘0, princes ! how short and sickly is the influence 
of wine ? It passes away as vapor at the dawning ; 
we recollect it with disgust, or remember nothing 
thereof. But all power that is stable or durable 
subsists in majesty. The king is but one man 
among a hundred and twenty-seven nations of men ; 
yet he oversees, connects, and governs the whole. 
His are the honors, counsels and strength of all his 
people. For the king they plow, they sow, and 
they reap and plant vineyards ; for him the stars 


192 


shine and shed influences upon earth, and the seasons 
change to yield the monarch variety of production. 
For him the fruits ripen, the shrubs and the blossoms 
breathe their odors ; the winds blow incense to him, 
and the four quarters of the world pay him tribute 
day by day. If he cries war ! it is war ! The banners 
of blood are let loose to the wind, and the sound of 
the clarion kindles all men to battle. His hosts 
clothe themselves in harness, and range in terrible 
array. The forests are laid flat, the mountains shake 
beneath them, and neither rocks nor rivers impede 
the march of his armies. They trample into dust 
the fruits of the fleld and the labors of the workman ; 
yet none ask the king, wherefore is peace, or where- 
fore is war ? for he stands exalted in ruin, and is 
glorified in destruction ; his word is the bolt of irre- 
sistible power, and his will makes the appointment 
and sanctitude of law.’ ^ 

So saying, this one sat down amid the applause of 
the assembly. 

Lastly, slow and bashful arose the young advocate 
for the fair, and bowing thrice around, his words 
went forth as the breathing of soft music : 

Great, 0 princes ! great is the strength of wine, 
and much greater is the strength and glory of 
majesty. But yet there is a power that tempers 
and moderates, to which rulers themselves pay de- 
lightful obedience. Man is as the rough and crude 
element of earth, unmollified by the fluidity of 
water and light. Heaven, therefore, sent woman — 
gentle, bright, and beauteous woman — to soothe, 


193 


form and illumine the rudeness of his being. The 
planter who planted the vineyard, and the vintner 
who pressed the grape, were born of woman ; and 
by woman alone the subject and the sovereign re- 
ceive existence, with all that can make existence 
advantageous or desirable. She brings man forth 
in his weakness, and she brings him up to his 
strength ; he is fostered in her bosom, he is nourished 
with her substance, and he imbibes into his being 
the sweetness of humanit}^ with the milk of his 
mother. Without woman, where would be the rela- 
tions, endearments and connections of kindred — the 
charities that bind the wide world together into one 
family — the great brotherhood of man ? She comes 
not against you in the hostility of weapons, or fearful- 
ness of power. She comes in the comfort and mild 
light of beauty ; she looks abashed and takes you 
captive ; she trembles, and you obey. Yet hers is 
the surest of all rights on earth ; for her dominion is 
sweet, and our subjection is voluntary, and a free- 
dom from her yoke is what no man could bear. 
There are no forms of human government that can 
exempt us from her sway ; no system of laws that 
can exclude her authority. Do we not study, toil 
and sweat, and go forth in the darkness and put our 
face to every danger to win and bring home treasure 
and ornaments to our love ? 

If men seek peace, it is to live in kindly society 
with woman ; and if they seek war, it is to please 
her with the report and renown of their valor. The 
highest and mightiest, the lord of the manor, and 

n 


194 


the ruler of nations, is caught in the fascinating net 
of his loved one. I saw her chide him in her play- 
fulness, and strike him in her petulance, yet he 
pressed the hand of her pleasing presumption to 
his lips ; he gazed fondly and fixedly on her ; if she 
laughed he laughed also ; but if she affected displeas- 
ure, he spoke and looked submission.^’ 

Here ended the young orator. The monarch rose 
from his throne and gave loud applause, and the 
roof resounded with the shouts and acclamations of 
the assembly. 

Wherefore it was decreed, by the laws of the 

Medes and Persians,” that female beauty ought 
to govern the world in meekness, and that men 
owed to its power a voluntary obedience. 

‘‘ You have capitally proved your position,” 
laughingly exclaimed the doctor; ‘^and in truth, 
Mr. Wittig, our every day’s experience, in addition 
to the page of history, abundantly sustains the vast 
influence of the fair for good.” 

History affords no more remarkable example,” 
replied the old man, than the career of the bar- 
barian, Peter, of Eussia, who, of a numerous peo- 
ple, disembruted every one except himself ; hut the 
glory of this he should fairly divide with Kate, the 
washerwoman, afterwards the empress Catharine, 
who humanized the man that humanized a na- 
tion!” 

Let us now return, gentle reader, to Kate, to 
Joseph, and other votaries of Euterpe and Terpsi- 
chore, who were meanwhile causing the spacious 


195 


apartments of the wine merchant to resound with 
festive gayety. Never had Miss Willingham ap- 
peared so lovely, so fascinating, as on this evening ; 
and her lover, who had no eyes for the gay German 
belles who surrounded him, was more than ever 
entranced with the object of his worship. The 
lively Barbara, who appeared to be everywhere at 
once, and whose quick perception soon discerned the 
doctor’s sentiments, rallied poor Kate terribly at 
intervals, as the opportunity of a whisper would 
present itself ; and then, as the tell-tale blood would 
suffuse the countenance of the fair American, she 
would run gleefully away, without affording Miss 
Willingham the chance to recover her equanimity ; 
and these moments of confusion would be multiplied 
indefinitely, as the more sedate Lou Wittig would 
alternate with her sister in calling the attention of 
her preceptress to the absent manner of Joseph 
Sharp when away from the side of his loved one I 
And need we say at such moments, Kate would have 
given worlds for a quiet nook, where she could 
indulge alone the luxury of happy thoughts. 

Oh ! have you never known the silent charm 
That undisturbed retirement yields the soul, 

Where no intruder might your peace alarm, 

And tenderness have wept without control 
While melting fondness o’er the bosom stole? 

Those pensive pleasures did you never prove, 

Oh, you have never loved I you know not what is love. 

But Miss Willingham was not vouchsafed this 
‘‘ silent charm ” until at the close of this memorable 
and delightful evening, she was privileged in the 


196 


solitude of her own room to meditate upon the 
proofs afforded hy her lover’s attentions and the 
tones of his voice, and to feel within her inmost 
heart the joyous conviction that she was indeed be- 
loved hy him whose regard was more precious than 
all that rank or affluence could bestow ! Nor was 
our hero permitted the happiness which he had 
ardently hoped the occasion would confer of whis- 
pering to Kate the avowal of that attachment which 
for months it had been his paramount pleasure to 
cherish; but ‘‘fortune favors the brave,” and it 
was not long ere the desired opportunity presented 
itself. 


CHAPTEE XII, 


Come with those downcast eyes, sedate and sweet, 
Those looks demure, that deeply pierce the soul, 
Where, with the light of thoughtful reason mixed. 
Shines lively fancy and the feeling heart. 


HEKE are men, ay, and maidens too, 
who are exceedingly poetical in affairs 
of the heart ; especially so at the anx- 
ious moment they expect to make or re- 
ceive an avowal of the tender passion. 
Door-stoops and old-fashioned porches, 
kitchens and hack parlors are entirely 
out of the question with the forlorn 
swain and romantic maiden. They 
must have the free air and the blue expanse above 
them ; they must seek a spot where their long con- 
cealed passion may escape and soar to a fabulous alti- 
tude. Perchance they may fancy the sunless side of a 
romantic mountain, or the depths of some quiet vale ; 
or, if they should chance to believe with Cowper, 
that the spleen is seldom felt where Flora reigns,’' 
we may discover them wandering amidst roses and 
hyacinths in some capacious garden, and exchanging 
amorous glances in a world of perfumed beauty. 



198 


But there are others, and our friend, the surgeon, 
was one of them, who prefer a comfortable chat on 
so important a theme in the quiet of home ; and on 
seeking for Kate a few evenings after the one re- 
corded in our last chapter, he found her seated alone 
in the cosy parlor of Carlotta Moltke, and perusing, 
with an abstracted air, an abridged edition of Ten- 
nyson, one of the few mementos of her deceased 
mother. Miss Willingham had not noticed the en- 
trance of any one, and colored deeply when she 
heard the words ‘‘dear Kate'' pronounced, and 
the next instant the hand which had hung carelessly 
by her side was pressed to the lips of Joseph Sharp. 
Did she disengage it from his grasp ? No ! for Kate 
was both too sensible and practical to he prudish. 
The doctor, as if unwilling to part with so great a 
treasure, did not release his hold, hut drawing to 
him a convenient seat, gazed with fond admiration 
at the beautiful girl. 

“Forgive me, dear Miss Willingham, if my ad- 
dress was abrupt, will you not?" Assured by the 
faint smile which illumined her features that his 
question was affirmatively answered, the doctor con- 
tinued, while the silken lashes concealed the down- 
cast eyes of his listener: “Your heart may not 
have prompted the thought, dear girl, yet from our 
first painful and novel interview, the passion I have 
so long delayed expressing in words was kindled 
in this breast. Still, though doubt, anxiety and 
misconstruction, those clouds of love, have never yet 
conspired to dim the bright sunshine of my hopes, 


199 


shall I confess, Miss Willingham, the dazzling vision 
of supreme happiness which a return of all-absorb- 
ing love presented to me, was too much for a timid 
heart, and until now I have shrank from its avowal. 
Tell me, dear one, in this have I done injustice to 
you, to myself, or to both?’' As these words were 
uttered, her suitor sank upon one knee at the side of 
Kate, and still retaining her hand, pressed it passion- 
ately to his heart. 

‘‘Let me entreat you to rise. Doctor Sharp,” she 
exclaimed. “ I would not have you kneel to one so 
unworthy as myself.” 

But her lover moved not, and looking upward, 
seemed to seek out the fond and melting eyes, which, 
too conscious of their secret, turned bashfully from 
his gaze. 

“ 1 cannot, must not rise, until those lips have 
sealed my fate. Oh ! tell me not, dear Miss Wil- 
lingham, that my love has been in vain ! ’ ' 

“I had not hoped. Doctor Sharp,” blushingly 
replied the fair girl, her features still partially 
averted from the kneeling form, “ I had not hoped — 
how should I presume so greatly — that any feeble 
merits of one so obscure, a stranger, and upon the 
verge of despair as you found me, could have won 
your esteem, and above all, so great an honor as the 
attachment professed for me this evening.” 

“ 0 ! say not so,” cried her lover, warmly ; “ say 
not so, dearest Kate. The obscurity was that of some 
lovely planet, concealed for a moment by the envious 
cloud ; and it was my grateful task to dispel the 


200 


anxiety, the despair if you will, which for a season 
had driven the damask from your cheek ; and my 
admiration. Miss Willingham, not simply cold es- 
teem, was the greater for the disadvantage you con- 
tended with/' 

fear, 0 my protector and truest friend," re- 
joined Kate, while tears of happiness dimmed, but 
did not mar the glance she bestowed upon Joseph, 

that your admiration has been wilfully blind ; and 
when you know my faults, you will seek to forget 
me !" 

‘‘Never, never !" was the impassioned and earnest 
response, “dear Miss Willingham ! It may be that 
me poets judged like philosophers, when they 
feigned love to be blind ; for often in a woman do 
we see what our judgment and taste approve, and 
yet feel nothing toward her ; and often what they 
both condemn and yet feel a great deal ! But give 
him whose hand and heart are yours, the credit of 
that judgment and taste which could approve, and 
at the same moment stake his earthly happiness upon 
the object of his choice ! And now again, ere I 
consent to rise, tell me, loved one, shall my entrea- 
ties be rewarded ? Will you be mine, mine forever ?" 

The heart of the fair and noble girl was too full 
of joy, of unmixed happiness to permit of words ; 
and the hand placed within those of her enraptured 
admirer, gave the assent which language failed to 
convey ! 

The fair reader will scarcely require to be told 
with what rapture our hero regained his feet and 


201 


imprinted more than one kiss upon the features of 
his own — his well- won, well-loved Kate. Can we 
introduce here anything more beautiful, more apt, 
than the language of Sir Edward Lytton Bulwer : 

Oh I in this thorny and troubled earth, where love, 
the offspring of some other world finds rarely shelter 
hut in the wilderness and the cave — where sorrow, 
and disappointment, and shame, and the shadows 
of early death track its unguided footsteps ; it is 
sweet to behold it, though only for an inst^,nt, en- 
shrined in a temple worthy to become its refuge and 
meet for the homage of our vows.'* 

Joseph had now gained that richest of all earth^s 
treasures — the love of woman I of the one whose 
heart is her world. For does she not send forth her 
sympathies on adventure ; she embarks her whole 
soul in the traffic of affection, and if shipwrecked, 
her case is hopeless — for it is a bankruptcy of the 
heart. 


CHAPTEE XIII. 


By foreign arts, domestic faults to mend, 

Enlarge my notions and my views extend. 

Lord Lyttelton. 


HE mind constitutes its own pros- 
perity and adversity. Winter presents 
no cloud to a cheerful spirit, neither 
can summer find sunshine for the 
spirit that is in a state of dejection. 
Fortunately the cheerful tone of mind 
was the one enjoj^ed in common by 
J oseph and his affianced Kate ; and 
although they were sensible that 
months, perhaps years, would elapse ere their en- 
gagement could he consummated in the holy sacra- 
ment of marriage, and that the wide expanse of 
ocean would in a brief period probably divide them, 
yet with loving and mutual confidence they would 
not consent that such impressions should detract 
from their happiness whilst fortune decreed they 
should remain in a foreign land. 

The doctor, at the request of Kate, had solicited 
her father’s approval of their union, which Mr. 

Willingham most courteously granted, adding his 
202 



203 


blessing and prayers for their future happiness. And 
as Joseph was now the constant attendant of Miss 
Willingham in her daily morning walk to the Wit- 
tig mansion, the rumor of their engagement soon 
became general with the neighbors and friends of 
Kate’s fair pupils ; and the kindly wishes and con- 
gratulations of Barbara and Lou were sincerely ex- 
tended to the charming music teacher_, although 
accompanied as usual among young ladies in such 
cases, with abundance of raillery at the expense of 
Miss Willingham, all of which our heroine had 
schooled herself to endure with good-natured forti- 
tude. 

A fact of which the gentle reader is doubtless 
aware, and it is a provoking one in the case of most 
lovers, is that they are liable to many brief separa- 
tions, and however brief they may be, do they not 
appear like ages to those whose only enjoyment is in 
each other’s society? Joseph Sharp was no excep- 
tion to this rule, as his duties called him frequently 
to visit neighboring and distant stations comprised 
within the desolating theatre of war then progress- 
ing between the two most powerful nations of Eu- 
rope ; and during the moments thus passed from 
the side of his loved one, his only consolation was 
the correspondence he was enabled to maintain from 
the Saar, the Rhine, the Moselle, and the many 
beautiful and classical spots with which France and 
Germany abound. 

We shall be constrained to beg the reader’s indul- 
gence in omitting the tender passages in our hero’s 


204 


epistles, and quote as follows from one dated at 
Cologne : 

In my last I promised to give you some account 
of the interesting sights of the Rhine. As I have 
been up and down it three different times, and as 
my letters would not he complete unless I gave its 
history, I wish it distinctly understood that it is not 
all original, but made up from my notes and from 
panoramic views of the same. * * * * 

Upon all the known earth the Rhine is surely the 
most interesting river. Its origin is not exactly 
known, nor does a drop of its powerful waters run 
into the sea ; for in the Netherlands it loses its name 
and is called the ‘Wall.' It rushes down from 
the high Central Alps of Switzerland, three days' 
journey from this place. The Front Rhine streams 
out from the Toma Lake, on the east side of St. 
Gothard’s mountain ; the Back Rhine emanates 
from the Rheinwald-Glaciers. The whole length 
from Basil to Krinzen, before Rotherdam, is calcu- 
lated at 119^ German miles. Three hundred and 
seventy glaciers and 2,700 larger and smaller sec- 
ondary streams raise it to one of the most majestic 
rivers. At Mentz it has a breadth of 1,380 feet — at 
Cologne of 1,212. Mentz was founded in the year 
14 before Christ, by Drusus, the step-son of Augus- 
tus. A great many monuments, dating from the 
time of the Romans, have been found there. The 
construction of the Cathedral was begun in 978, 
under the reign of Archbishop Willisgis. The cu- 
riosities here are : monuments of Guttenherg and of 


205 


Schiller ; railway bridge ; the Palace of the Grand 
Duke ; the armory or arsenal ; the Cathedral of Saint 
Stephen ; the theatre ; the Corn Hall, and so forth. 
The number of inhabitants is 42,000, among whom 
arc *7,000 Protestants and 3,000 Jews. * * 

The beauties of the Rhine have been extolled in 
poetry and set forth in prose ; and many, no doubt, 
like myself, having high anticipations, have been 
disappointed with their first trip upon this charm- 
ing river, forgetting that not so much in the river 
itself is the beauty, but in its surroundings, its vine- 
clad hills, old castles, and picturesque ruins. I 
need hardly state, that in these lines only the prin- 
cipal points of interest can be named ; nor can I say 
what length of time should be consumed in making 
the trip. At Beiberich, an old place of pilgrimage 
on the right bank of the Rhine, an excellent view 
is obtained of the summer residence of the Duke of 
Nassau, the palace standing close to the right bank 
of the river. Adjoining this town are Mosbach and 
Elfield, the latter with 2,300 inhabitants, and a 
castle built in the year 1330 by Archbishop Baldwin, 
of Triers. This place also boasted of a printing- 
press as early as 1465, in the lifetime of the inventor, 
Guttenberg. After leaving Bieberich, Hattenheim, 
noted for the celebrated ^ Marksbrumer ' wine, is 
passed ; and further on the celebrated castle Johan- 
nisberg, belonging to Prince Metternich, with a 
vineyard of sixty-five acres, where the renowned 
^ Johannisberg wine ' is produced. Castle Johan- 
nisberg was, in the year 1106, a cloister of Benedic- 
ts 


206 


tines, and belonged to the Abbey of Fulda. In 
1802 it became the property of the Prince of Orange ; 
in 1805 Marshal Kellerman received it as a present 
from Napoleon, and in 1814 Prince Metternich re- 
ceived it as an imperial Austrian fief. At the foot 
of the Kheingan extends the town of Kudesheim, 
also famous for its wine. The Low or Bromser Cas- 
tle, a rough and rugged heap of rocks, originates 
from the time of the Romans. At present it is the 
property of the Count of Ingelheim. Behind it 
rises the Upper or Roosen Castle, an old obelisk-like 
tower. It belongs now to Count Schonborn. The 
ruins of Ehrenfels are seen from this point. This 
castle was built in the year 1210, and destroyed in 
1689 by the French. Nearly opposite the river 
Nahe, which enters the Rhine at this point, upon a 
rock of quartz in the middle of the Rhine stands 
the celebrated Mouse Tower. In the middle asres 
it was a tower for receiving customs or tolls, and 
was rebuilt in the form of a ward tower in 1856, 
serving as a warning station, where, by means of 
signals, a ship sailing down stream is warned be- 
times when at the Bingerloch, that a ship is ap- 
proaching from below. 

‘‘The Bingerloch is a rapid gush of the stream, 
close concentrated by powerful rocks, the enlarge- 
ment of which has now and then been tried by all 
sorts of work since the time of the Romans till the 
present day. The last stone-breakings took place 
under the reign of Frederick William the Third, 
King of Prussia, from 1830 to 1832. A monument 


207 


erected on these broken stones on the left bank has 
preserved this event for posterity. The Mouse 
Tower, according to a superstitious legend, was the 
insecure resort of a treacherous Bishop, Avho, as we 
say in America, created a ‘ corner ’ in corn, and 
invited the poor to partake of his stock on hand 
without price ; hut getting them into his barn closed 
the door and set it on fire. An army of mice driven 
from the barn by the confiagration, took the matter 
of revenge into their own hands and made an attack 
in force upon the Bishop, who, to escape from the 
threatening danger, fied to this tower on the Rhine. 
But the mice were ^ too many ' for him, and effect- 
ing an entrance to the tower they gnawed the flesh 
from his limbs ! 

On the left hank we have Bingen, which the 
dying soldier of Mrs. Norton's poem had quite a 
‘ weakness ' for. It is situated at the influx of the 
Nahe into the Rhine, the western frontier of the 
Hesse Darmstadt country, at the foot of the Rochus 
Mountain, where one sees the ruins of the ancient 
fortified castle Klopp in which Henry TV, was im- 
prisoned in the year 1105. Upon the summit of 
the mount stands the chapel of Rochus, a structure 
known to the Romans. 

NewRheinstein, on the left hank, is a residence 
of Prince Frederick of Prussia ; its castle is men- 
tioned in the year 1279. Castle Souneck, on the 
left hank, built A. D. 1015, by the Archbishop 
Willingis, of Mentz ; destroyed by the Emperor 
Rudolph ; rebuilt in the fourteenth century, is now 


208 


the property of the King of Prussia and his brothers. 
In the river opposite Bacharach, on the left bank, is 
located the ‘'altar of Bacchus,' a large stone only 
visible in certain seasons. I was told that its appear- 
ance was the forerunner of a good vintage, which, 
it is said, is apt to he true. The cause of its appear- 
ance is low water, the effect of a want of rain ; 
and a dry season is apt to he favorable for grapes. 
Loretoe, a very powerful and high rocky mount, 420 
feet high, is well known on account of its legend. 
Further on upon the left hank are seen the ruins of 
Schonherg Castle, once the birthplace of a powerful 
and famous family. It was destroyed by the French 
in 1689. In the year 1113 the family expired. 
The castle and the estate belong to Prince Albert, of 
Prussia. In this castle, if tradition tell the truth, 
dwelt seven beautiful, rich, amiable, and accom- 
plished sisters, daughters of a good-natured old 
Count, who was not at all anxious to get the girls 
married off, but allowed them to ‘ receive company,' 
and use their own judgment in making a selection. 
Of course, young ladies such as they were, having 
such a nice home, and being allowed to do pretty 
much as they saw fit, were not without plenty of 
gentlemen friends, who would often drop around of 
an evening and spend a few hours, drink the old 
gentleman's wine and smoke his cigars. Getting 
used to this sort of life, these cavaliers naturally 
enough concluded it would he pleasant always to 
live in so agreeable a place, and thought of proposing 
to the maidens ; but so equally had these seven 


209 


fair creatures dispensed tlieir sweet smiles, that no 
one of the many suitors could boast any particular 
favor received. Every one of them did his best to 
make an impression, and it is stated that considera- 
ble rivalry existed among them. The young ladies, 
taking advantage of the feeling among their friends, 
practiced some rare jokes on the ardent youths, of 
whom quite a number had offered themselves and 
been rejected, going off and marrying other girls 
who were more anxious to get husbands. However, 
at length the maidens appointed a time, stating they 
would then select husbands, and requested a full 
attendance of their suitors in the marble hall of the 
castle upon that day. Such a throng as was assem- 
bled in that apartment at the appointed hour ! 
Every knight had on the best suit of clothes his 
tailor could prepare, and made the best possible 
appearance. After waiting a considerable length of 
time without any signs of the entree of the fair 
nymphs, the gentlemen began to grow impatient ; 
and as time wore on, and hour was added to hour, 
their anxiety became fearful. At this juncture sounds 
of merriment from without attracted their attention, 
and upon going to the windows they discovered 
a skiff quitting the shore, in which was seated the 
seven sisters, who, with loud laughter, hade the 
gentlemen farewell. Curses, not loud, hut deep, 
were uttered by the victims of this duplicity, and, 
as one man, they rushed to the water’s edge, where 
they witnessed a scene the maidens had not calcula- 
ted upon. The boat struck a rock and went down, 
18 * 


210 


the fair ones with it ; and from the water there im- 
mediately arose seven rugged rocks — which I noticed 
in the river at this point while the water was low. 
These are called the ^ Seven Sisters.' 

Soon after the ‘ Seven Sisters ' we pass Lurley, 
on the right bank, with its famous echo ; and a little 
further on, St. Goar, on the left hank, beautifully 
situated. And in the immediate neighborhood is the 
most extensive ruins on the Rhine — that of Rhein- 
fels — ’formerly a powerful fortress ; this was built A. 
D. 1245, and was blown up by the French in 1794. 
Sternberg, also called the Temple Court, is a ruined 
Gothic structure. In the valley is the cloister of 
Bornhofen, with a Gothic church. This is a much 
frequented place of pilgrimage, especially in the 
month of September. And now, after so long a 
letter, may I not, ^dearest,' subscribe myself, your 
own, Joseph." 

The surgeon was not unfrequently the hero of an 
exciting or amusing adventure in the course of these 
long official journeys by land and water. On one 
occasion he was sent to the front near Paris ; and 
being personally acquainted with the commandant 
of Saarbrucken, was provided with a royal sleeping 
car for the trip, which would take him a week or 
more ; and the conductor received orders to allow no 
one in the car hut himself. At the different towns 
and stations along the line, the soldiers and citizens 
observing the royal conveyance, gathered around to 
obtain a glimpse of the supposed princely passenger, 
and he could hear anxious inquiries as to who was 


211 


inside. The conductor would tell them one of the 
princes, hut he did not know which. 

Our hero, discovering his new and unexpected 
honors, determined to make the most of it, and re- 
ceived the salutes and presentation of arms with all 
the dignity due to his royal station ! Arriving at 
each station he was sumptuously provided with 
eatables, champagne, and regalias, at the expense 
of the government of which he was the presumed 
heir. At Nancy and other towns he was waited on 
by military officials with hats oif, who placed their 
troops at his service ; but he would politely how 
from the car-window, thanking them for the gener- 
ous offer, and to prevent the detection of his repub- 
lican origin, would inform them he was suffering 
with a headache, and preferred to he left alone 1 
This excuse, however, but increased the delicacy of 
his position, as he had some of the chief surgeons 
thrust upon him, who, after examining his pulse, 
tongue, and so forth, gravely pronounced it a case 
of fatigue from the journey ; and he was immedi- 
ately loaded with prescriptions, smelling salts, et 
cetera; and one officer was so considerate as to tele- 
graph to Meaux that one of the royal family was 
coming, that he was sick, and to have one of the 
best surgeons to take charge of him at once ! Doubt- 
less the words of the great dramatist — 

“ If it be a sin to covet honor, 

I am the most offending soul alive — ” 

recurred vividly to the doctor’s memory at this mo- 
ment ; and he promptly decided not to complain of 


212 


headaches in future. To his dismay, when the train 
reached Meaux, he found a coyps of surgeons, with 
several general officers and a body of cavalry and 
infantry in line to receive him ! It was now evi- 
dent that regal blood was to be tested ; that he 
should be obliged to dismount, and that to be re- 
ceived as a prince was inevitable ! The door was 
swung open, and he was assisted to alight by a 
division commander on either side, at the same mo- 
ment a royal salute from a park of artillery shook 
the earth and filled the air with clouds of smoke ! 
The unfortunate surgeon was half dead with nervous 
trepidation, as he was assisted into an elegant ba- 
rouche drawn by four white horses, with a guard of 
twelve mounted men prancing around him. Being 
driven to the princely residence, he was entertained 
with due honors during his brief stay ; but being 
careful after his departure not to assume again the 
royal mask for fear of some unpleasant denouement, 
he was allowed to pursue in elegant obscurity the 
remainder of his journey. 


CHAPTER XIV. 


LTHOUGH at this period the gay 
capital of France was closely be- 
sieged, and the ingress or egress of 
individual passengers was a matter 
of strict scrutiny, yet the doctor, 
being within five miles of Paris, had 
determined on entering its gates ; and 
accordingly starting before dark the 
evening of his arrival at headquar- 
ters, he traversed the distance on foot, and passing 
the outer guards without detention, arrived at the 
inner fortifications at 7 P. M., where he was taken 
in charge by the guard and conducted to the head- 
quarters of the commanding officer as a suspicious 
character. Being asked where he was from, he re- 
plied, America, and the city of Baltimore.'' One 
of the officers present addressed him in English : 

If you are from Baltimore, you can speak better 
English than French?" 

I can, sir," replied Joseph. 

Ah ! then, I will see if you speak truly. I have 
been in that city myself !" 

He was then plied with questions regarding that 
metropolis, to all of which prompt answers were 



213 


214 


returned ; and he was then questioned as to his bus- 
iness in Paris. He rejoined, that he desired to see 
the minister, Mr. Washhurne. Guards were then 
placed over him for the night ; and next morning, 
being escorted to the office of the American ambas- 
sador, he asked for Mr. Washhurne in a manner 
indicating that he wished to pay his regards to that 
official, although he had never met him. He was 
told by the attendant, that Mr. Washhurne was 
alone in an adjoining apartment, pointing to it. 
The doctor entered the room, followed closely by 
the guard, and after the interchange of a few words 
with the minister, the latter, with the remark, I 
will take charge of the visitor myself,'' dismissed 
the soldiery, and turning to Joseph, said : 

You are in no trouble, are you?" 

sir; only in being brought here under 

escort." 

The minister remarked, he had risked his life in 
entering the city at such a time, and advised him to 
act discreetly. After a lengthy conversation the 
surgeon took his leave, promising to seek the pro- 
tection of the ambassador if he got into trouble. 

Joseph Sharp remained eight days in Paris, visit- 
ing, among other places, the celebrated Imprimerie 
Imperiale, or government printing office, a place 
frequently overlooked by travelers, and yet one of 
the greatest curiosities of this renowned seat of the 
arts. Nine hundred and fifty persons, including 
over three hundred females, are constantly employed 
here for ten hours daily. In the revolution of 1830 


215 


a mob, including many printers from other offices, 
broke into the establishment and destroyed the 
steam presses, thinking thereby to enforce a return 
to hand labor. In the centre of the chief court is a 
fine bronze statue of Guttenberg, its pedestal adorned 
with bas-reliefs illustrating the progress of civiliza- 
tion through the art of printing. Everything con- 
nected with typography is here combined under one 
roof. When the Holy Father, Pius YII, in the 
time of the first Napoleon, visited the office, the 
Lord's Prayer was printed and presented to him in 
one hundred and fifty languages ; and before he re- 
turned to his carriage he received a copy of the col- 
lection ready bound 1 The expense of this office is 
5^000,000 francs annually. 

The surgeon made his exit from the city with 
considerable difficulty, but finally arrived within 
the lines of the Prussian forces, and taking his royal 
car proceeded to Strasbourg, stopping a day and even- 
ing at Epernay with the renowned champagne 
manufacturers, Koussillion & Co., being permitted 
to explore their immense vaults containing fifteen 
millions of bottles of the wine ! What an exquisite 
image — may we name it par parenthese — is that 
which Mortimer Collins, the Horace of our time, 
conjured up in one of his poems, when he speaks of 
his two loves — the blonde and the brunette — and ex- 
plained his apparent vacillation by the neat surprise 
that champagne was the blonde and the charming 
brunette was Burgundy." 

From Trier, on the river Moselle, our hero wrote 


216 


his loved Kate a sketch of the leading places of 
interest on his route from the French capital to the 
city of Strasbourg, of which we will furnish the 
reader an abstract : 

I propose in these lines merely to sketch the route 
by which we arrived at the late seat of war from 
near Paris. ^We’ is used not so much as a trav- 
eler's right as a social privilege. The plural pronoun 
indicates not only the* objective individuality repre- 
sented by the author of these lines, hut also another, 
who during the journey was a genial companion. 
Dr. Dillman, with whom you are acquainted. We 
skim lightly and smoothly over sixty-five miles of 
the Paris and Strasbourg railway, and reach the 
town of Meaux, situated on the river Marne. Why 
does the student ask, as we approach this unpre- 
tending station — Can we see the church of St. 
Etienne from the train ? It is because within that 
sacred shrine lies all that is mortal of Jacques 
Beringe Bossuet, the great bishop who wrote the 
‘ Discourse Sur PHistorie Universelle,' and who 
was, perhaps, the greatest amongst that group of 
preachers who made their utterance part of the litera- 
ture of France. In the choir of tho church a white 
marble monument testifies to the reverence of the 
people for the memory of a man whose creed was 
that of humanity, and the story of whose life be- 
longs to the universal history of which he was the 
interpreter. On we go, gliding swiftly by the 
sloping hills on which luxuriant vineyards rear their 
grateful crops, until my thoughts are again turned 


211 


to the works of civilization, for the name of Chatean 
Thierry is shouted in our ears. Again your lover 
strains his neck to get a glimpse of something, for 
he remembers that here was born Jean de la Fon- 
taine, who wrote the Fables Choisies, with which, 
in former days, school hoys in knickerbockers and 
school girls in (what were they) pantalettes, were 
familiar. Next we pass by Chalons and Epernay, 
through miles of that barren country which bears 
Hhe glorious vintage of champagne.' Nothing 
will grow hut the vine in the hungry, chalky soil of 
the arrondisement of Marne, from which we get the 
white wines of Sillery and Epernay, made by a 
curious paradox from the blackest of grapes. Hav- 
ing now traveled one hundred and forty-four miles, 
we reached Bar-le-duc, so called because it was 
formerly the capital of the Duchy of Bar, now the 
department of Mense. It was founded in the 10th 
century by the Duke of Lorraine, whose fortress 
stood in the upper part of the old city, and was 
destroyed by Louis XIV. To French juveniles the 
name of Bar-le-duc is one full of ^ sweetness and 
delight,' as its manufactories send out a large con- 
tingent of the commodities known to the youths of 
America under the classical term of ^lollypops.' 
Six miles further on is Yitry-le-Francais, situated 
on the right bank of the Marne. This, though by no 
means a large town — the population being about 
8^000 — is one full of interesting -features. The 
streets are wide, straight and clean, provided with 
wood pavements ; there are twenty-seven fountains 
19 


218 


from which streams run through all the avenues ; 
and the public square is planted with lime trees. 
Over two hundred and twenty miles has the iron- 
horse now borne us, when we reach I^ancy. This 
town once stood a terrible siege from Charles the 
Eash, Duke of Burgundy, and was reduced nearly 
to famine when relieved. The little church of Bon 
Secours was built to commemorate the event. Here 
lived the Dukes of Lorraine, who were buried in the 
church of the Cordeliers. At the time of the revo- 
lution, when the French people abandoned their 
holy religion and worshiped the vile goddess of 
reason j the remains of these princes, who had done 
the State some service, were dragged out of their 
graves and buried in the cemetery of the town. 
After the restoration the bodies were restored, and 
now rest calmly in the church, where every day 
orisons are raised to heaven for the repose of their 
souls. Stately buildings have been erected in every 
part of the town, and its square will rival those of 
any departmental town in France that I have seen. 
In the centre of the Place Eoyale is a statue of Stan- 
islaus, ex-King of Poland and Duke of Lorraine, to 
whom Nancy is indebted for its principal architec- 
tural beauties. Twenty miles further on is Luneville, 
where in 1801 was signed the treaty by which the 
Ehine was made the limits between France and 
Germany. And now we approach the end of our 
long, but by no means weary journey, for the speed 
of the engine slackens as we enter the terminus at 
Strasbourg — three hundred and twenty-one miles 


219 


from the capital of France. This city is strongly 
fortified with a garrison, in time of peace, of about 
6,000 soldiers. It is noted for its cathedral, the 
spire of which is 4*74 feet above the pavement, or 112 
feet higher than St. PauTs in London. It is con- 
sidered a master-piece of architecture. The clock in 
its lofty tower is peculiar. A statue erected to the 
memory of Guttenherg, in the year 1440, is an object 
of considerable interest. The Emperor Napoleon 
made Metz his headquarters ; but Strasbourg has 
been the scene of stirring incidents in his very event- 
ful career. Here it was that in 1836 he gained over 
Col. Vaudrey to his cause ; and here he planned the 
scheme by which he aimed at once to attain the 
object which he did not accomplish until twelve years 
later. Here, too, he was imprisoned, and only re- 
leased to be told by every newspaper in Europe that 
his hope of ever ascending the throne of France was 
the dream of an enthusiast. How utterly false this 
and similar predictions have proved, it is needless 
to say. I shall be with you in a few days, returning 
to Saarbrucken by way of Luxembourg, Thionville 
and Metz ; and meanwhile, remain, love, your true 
afiianced, 


Joseph.'' 


CHAPTEE XV. 


He is blessed in love alone, 

Who loves for years, and loves but one. 


HEOUGrH love of adventure and also 
miscliief, our hero, before taking leave 
of the south of France, met with a 
temporary mishap on one occasion. 
Being on foot, and in company with 
Doctor Kessler, of Berlin, he entered 
a hotel in the small town of Borveaux 
and ordered dinner. Whilst waiting 
for the meal to he served he deter- 
mined to have some amusement ; accordingly, al- 
though he knew the landlady to he a rank Prussian, 
he said to her, with a mysterious air — 

Madam, I know you are a true Fi ench lady. 
Please tell us all you know about the Prussians in 
this section. We are French spies, and want to find 
out all we can.^" 

His companion was thunder-struck, and spring- 
ing to his feet tried to assure the good lady that 
they were not spies, and remarked to the American 
that they would get into trouble. 

220 



221 


Having finished the dinner, they resumed their 
journey, hut before they had gone half a mile saw 
three soldiers hard on their tracks. Very soon they 
had one on each side of them and one in tlie rear. 
The doctor tried to convince their captors that they 
had only indulged in a little hit of pleasantry, but 
they would not be convinced, and marched the un- 
lucky physicians hack. 

They were taken before the tribunal to he tried 
for their lives ! 

The affair now began to assume a serious aspect ; 
hut the American having all his papers with him, 
and the Prussian surgeon finding some acquaintance 
among the officers, they were released, hut not un- 
til they were placed in a little ofiice, four by four, 
and fumigated with chloride of lime, to prevent 
them from taking the Kinderpest. Joseph thought 
it fortunate that the adventure terminated with no 
more serious consequences than a short detention, a 
strong fumigation, and an addition to the length of 
the journey. 

More than once, as at Saarlouis and other towns, 
the doctor, being unknown to those in command, 
was under the unpleasant necessity of suffering tem- 
porary imprisonment in guard-houses ; yet, know- 
ing that these annoyances were the common experi- 
ence of civilians when journeying in time of war 
through a country overrun with contending forces, 
his happy spirits were not dampened by such inci- 
dents. No trait of character is more valuable than 
a good temper ; like flowers springing up in our 
19 * 


222 


pathway it revives and aids us. Whilst kind words 
and looks are the outward demonstration, patience 
and forbearance are the sentiments within. It has 
been said that it requires less philosophy to take 
things as they come, than to part with them as they 
go. Be that as it may, life is ever what we make 
it ! So let us ever call hack images of joy and glad- 
ness rather than those of grief and care, for though 
the latter sometimes may he our guests to sup and 
dine, let them never he permitted to lodge with us. 
Our hero would at intervals permit himself to he mo- 
mentarily vexed at the conduct of the excitable and 
blundering Prussians, and the undue exactions of 
military law, as well as at the dishonest practices of 
tradesmen, to which all strangers in a foreign land 
are occasionally victims, owing to their partial ig- 
norance of the coins in circulation, through which 
source they frequently are defrauded of their just 
change in the settlement of accounts ; yet he dis- 
covered, as have most men of the world, that good 
deeds will shine as bright on earth as the stars of 
heaven, and that by uniform courtesy and returning 
good for evil he escaped much imposition that he 
would have otherwise endured. 

“There is no dearth of kindness 
In this world of ours ; 

Only in our blindness, 

We gather thorns for flowers.” 

The penetration of Doctor Sharp enabled him to 
discern another important truth through the means 
afforded him in this journey of mingling with all 


223 


classes, namely, that the graces of humility, of 
charity, of true virtue, were not likely to he en- 
hanced by the results of the sanguinary contest of 
which he was the witness ; for those whom war 
had placed in authority, were haughty and utterly 
regardless of the rights of those beneath them. Let 
it not be supposed that the great are above tempta- 
tion and that the world has nothing further to ex- 
hibit for their seduction. When it can he made evi- 
dent that to humble the spirit of man you ought to 
place him in authority ; that to convince him of 
persoual defects and infirmities you ought to enclose 
him with sycophants and servile dependents ; that 
to make him temperate you should seat him at the 
table of Lucullus ; and that in order to humanize 
his disposition you should remove him as far as 
possible from a sense of the miseries of his fellow- 
creatures ; when, to cure a man of distempers inci- 
dent to his nature, you would place him in the 
midst of adventitious contagion — then, and not till 
then, will wealth, station and power he productive 
of reformation and virtue in man. It is not possi- 
ble that sensual appetite and spiritual ambition will 
cease and abate on gratification or indulgence. The 
spirit of man is a deathless desire ; its cravings can- 
not be satiated till it is possessed of some object that 
is adequate to its nature ; and as this world has no 
such object to exhibit, gratification only serves to 
provoke to further desire, or sink him into utter de- 
spondence. This is the moral that was intended by 
the philosophers, when they fabled that the son of 


224 


Philip broke into a' passion of tears on finding that 
no more worlds remained for him to conquer. 

The surgeon readily perceived that by the chances 
of war, the poor were daily becoming poorer, and 
the rich, richer ; that everywhere, true merit, in 
humble garb, was overlooked, but that arrogant 
pretension was rewarded with the title of prince, 
and courted next to majesty itself. Few have the 
discernment to perceive in the beggar the lineaments 
of the prince, or in the prince the lineaments af the 
beggar or slave ; yet history ofttimes records that 
the slave's progenitor was an emperor, and the 
prince’s ancestor a pauper. The illustrious Cardi- 
nal Campejus happened to have a dispute with the 
Duke of Modena, and the altercation rose high. 

Do you know,” said the Prince, in a passion, 
that your father was no better than my father’s 
swine herd ? ’ ’ 

I know it full well,” coolly answered the Car- 
dinal, ‘^and I am persuaded that, had your high- 
ness been the son of my father, you would have con- 
tinued of the same profession to this day.” 


CHAPTER XVI. 



' XCE more, after imprinting a passion- 
fate kiss upon those lips, and with his 
I arm encircling the waist of Kate, did 
'I our hero seat himself to while a delight- 
I ful evening away in discoursing of the 
scenes and incidents of the past, and in 
,) planning the future so soon to dawn 
^ upon the lover.s under widely different 
auspices, with the billows of the Atlan- 
tic and perchance long weary years to divide them. 
The noble girl did not repine, hut nature would not 
permit the tears to be restrained, with which her 
features were bathed as she buried them in the breast 
of her affianced lover ; and memory recalled the 
many happy moments they had enjoyed together ; 
then pictured to her the sadness of the farewell so 
soon to be spoken. Now that she was to part from 
him for an unknown period, how sensibly were re- 
called the many watchful acts of kindness with 
which in the intercourse of social life her lover had 
so often gratified her ; those words and tones, ges- 
tures, looks, by which affection is won and preserved. 
Unless it be the final separation of mother and child, 
no adieu between mortals brings with it the same 



226 


sorrowful, unfeigned, heart-rending feeling, as the 
one of those who have plighted to each other the 
vows of life-long love. Then it is, to use the homely 
hut expressive phrase — the heart is in the mouth. So 
felt Kate Willingham as the thought of a sad hut 
inevitable farewell obtruded itself, as some dread 
phantom, to her vision ; yet sorrows, like joys, must 
find mitigation ; and the kind, reassuring tones of 
her betrothed one, as he kissed away the sparkling 
drop upon her cheek, at length pacified the sweet 
girhs emotion, and again she glanced up at her 
lover’s countenance with that smile of affection which 
to him was the light of life. 

Spring, with its welcome voice, had now arrived, 
and the memorable struggle of two hundred and ten 
days’ duration in the fairest portion of Europe, was • 
finally ended. Joseph, who was obliged to visit 
Berlin before returning to his native land, having 
completed the requisite arrangenLents in a few days 
after his return to Saarhrucken, now took final fare- 
well of those nearest and dearest to him. We shall, 
however, forbear the details of the parting scene, 
and state that previous to leaving his post of duty 
he Avas presented the annexed certificate : 

Dr. J. Sharp : 

The undersigned Commission take leave to tender you tlieir 
thanks for your activity and endurance in the treatment of the 
sick in the Reserve Hospital at this place, from October 10th, 
1870, to the present date. 

[Signed] King’s Reserve Hospital Commission. 

Saarbrucken, May 4, 1871. 

This honorable testimonial, under date of Berlin, 


227 


May 15th, was acknowledged and endorsed by Gen- 
eral Von Boon, minister of war and marine. 

On liis route to the capital of Germany, the sur- 
geon visited Coblenz, to bid adieu to his many 
friends, and subsequently halted with the same view 
at Bonn, Cologne and Wetzlar, continuing his 
journey by way of Giessen, Marburg, Cassel, Magde- 
burg and Potsdam, to Berlin, where he engaged 
quarters at the Metropolis hotel. Under den Linden. 
He remained eight days in the capital, visiting 
every place of interest, including Charlottenburg and 
the environs ; and was constantly under escort of 
surgeons and others whom he had met upon the 
battle-fields of the late war. 

Whilst viewing and passing through the Koyal 
Palace one morning, he suddenly encountered the 
Emperor himself, who stopped and asked him if he 
was not the doctor who had charge of his hospital 
in 8aarbrucken, where the summer palace is loca- 
ted, and being answered in the affirmative, the Em- 
peror told him that he had not forgotten his prom- 
ise, and ^^you will hear from me when you are 
home in America."' Our hero gratefully thanked 
the monarch for his kindness, and the latter, ex- 
tending his hand, expressed his wishes for a pleas- 
ant trip to his native land, and then bade him fiire- 
well. 

From Berlin the surgeon now departed for Bre- 
men, visiting Brandenburg, Hanover, and other im- 
portant towns on the route. Bemaining two days in 
Bremen he had the pleasure of meeting his friend 


228 


Doctor Dillman, who waited to see him off for Lon- 
don. Leaving Bremer-haven for England, he ar- 
rived safely in London, after encountering a stormy 
passage ; a large number of lady passengers who 
were on board being ill in consequence, and keep- 
ing the physician constantly employed in attending 
to their wants. During his stay in the great me- 
tropolis,'’ Joseph stopped at the Caledonia Hotel, 
Adelphi Terrace, in the Strand, near Charing Cross 
Station, his arrival being duly chronicled in the 
evening editions of the same date. 

While engaged at dinner on his first day in town, 
eight physicians, representing Guy’s, St. Barthol- 
omew’s, and Johnson’s Hospitals, whom he had 
met at the seat of war, drove up to the hotel in an 
open barouche, and being accompanied by two 
American surgeons, they inquired for the prince. 
They were informed that there was no prince at the 
house ; but the visitors insisted that he must be 
there. Again they asked if no gentleman had ar- 
rived of the name of Sharp — Dr. Sharp, of Balti- 
timore, U. S. Being answered in the affirmative, 
one of the party exclaimed, in a tone of surprise : 
^‘‘Is it possible you have a prince in the house and 
d ) not know it? ” The surgeons then maintained 
the jest by drawing up in column, with their backs 
to the wall of the vestibule, and as our hero issued 
from the dining room, with their hats off, they gave 
him the military salute with the right hand, ad- 
dressing him simultaneously as prince. To explain 
this conduct of the worthy medical gentlemen, wo 


229 


will observe that it is customary on the field of battle 
for surgeons to salute each other with titles, such as 
emperor, king, prince, duke, and so on, and as 
such titles are common in Europe, the proprietor of 
the Caledonia now thought that Joseph was an 
American of regal claims_, and began apologizing 
for not showing him greater attention, promising 
him the best room at his disposal, and other civili- 
ties. But the doctor politely interrupted and in- 
formed him he was no prince — that it was simply a 
battle-field honor to which he had fallen heir. 

In company of these facetious friends, Joseph vis- 
ited Hyde Park, Westminster Abbey, St. Paul's, 
and other noted features of London, including the 
College of Surgeons, Lincoln’s Inn Fields, and 
many of the magnificent hospitals of which the 
metropolis can justly boast, such as Chelsea, G-reen- 
wich, Guy’s, and the Koyal Hospital of St. Kath- 
erine, founded in the year 1148, by Queen Matilda, 
wife of King Stephen. The splendid Custom House, 
with its front of five hundred feet on the Thames, 
and the world-renowned Tower, where tradition tells 
us the ancient Briton, the Roman, the Saxon, and 
the Norman, each held their hours of revelry in the 
olden time, and whose walls, could they speak, 
would tell a tale of horror, unequaled and incredi- 
ble, were also inspected ; and last, though not the 
least eJtciting, the noted Derby races, yielded a day’s 
amusement. And having thus enjoyed several days 
amidst the ever interesting scenes of London, the 
doctor parted from his kind friends with regret, and 
20 


230 


proceeding to Southampton, went immediately on 
board the steamer for Baltimore, and home, “ sweet 
home/* 


CHAPTER XVII. 


Life’s but a walking shadow; 
****** It is a tale 
Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury, 
Signifying nothing. — Shakspeare. 


IME is the old justice who examines 
all offenders. Time destroys the 
speculations of man,*' says Cicero, hut 
it confirms the judgment of nature. 

Robert Dull had now for six years 
and upwards practiced medicine in the 
city of Baltimore, hut had failed, sig- 
nally failed, owing to his arrogant 
disposition, to acquire esteem or friend- 
ship, professionally or socially. *Tis true, the 
casual observer might he led to suppose that the 
doctor enjoyed a lucrative practice, for he had not in 
all the period above named ceased to appear upon 
the streets in a supurb equipage and with a liveried 
driver. But it was the supposed wealthy banker's 



231 


means which had supported this extravagance in 
his son, and not his own merits nor exertions. 
Doctor Dull had unquestionably never accepted 
those eminent Grecian models, Themistocles and 
Lycurgus for exemplars ; for the former, considered 
as the greatest of heroes, not he who conquers, hut 
who saves ; not the man who ruins, hut the one 
who erects ; and the latter, who might have assumed 
the sceptre, aspired to a much more elevated and 
durable dominion over the souls, the manners and 
conduct of his people and their posterity. He pre- 
vailed upon the rich to make an equal distribution 
of their lands with the poor. He enjoined them to 
feed in common on simple and frugal fare. He for- 
bid all gorgeousness of furniture and apparel ; and 
in short, he endeavored to suppress every sensual 
and selfish desire by injunctions of daily exercise, 
hardship and toil — a patient endurance of pain and 
a noble contempt of death. 

Far from entertaining sentiments so exalted, the 
views which in youth he had cherished regarding 
poverty and plebeianism, were so deeply rooted that 
his intimate associates would at times become pained 
and disgusted at his want of charity as well as 
good sense. Indeed, the lines which preface the 
present chapter were singularly applicable to this 
unworthy member of a learned j)rofession ; for 

sound and fury, signifying nothing,’’ illustrated 
his entire career. 

Dull, the reader may remember, had never been 
burdened with a surplus of brains, and the specula- 


232 


tions of the flatterers who had predicted for him a 
brilliant position were destroyed in toto by the prof- 
ligate habits in which he freely indulged. But the 
old, old story was now to be repeated in the history 
of our haughty friend, and the reader will not be 
surprised to learn that when the crash came ; when 
the hanking house of which his father was the 
senior partner failed for an immense sum ; when 
creditors, of whom the number was legion, seized 
upon his splendid ‘Hum out,'’ his furniture and 
other available assets to satisfy their claims, the 
supercilious and crest-fallen physician again re- 
turned to the obscurity of the country to earn a 
precarious subsistence through a very limited prac- 
tice. 

Let us now return to the despised student of for- 
mer days. On his arrival in Baltimore, the city 
press published glowing accounts of his late expe- 
rience and adventures in Europe, whilst his old 
friends, together with numerous deputations of Ger- 
man citizens, welcomed him with enthusiasm. A 
few days after reaching the city, the testimonial 
promised by the Emperor, arrived in the form of a 
splendid gold medal with suitable inscription, testi- 
fying to the meritorious services rendered by the 
recipient in the late Franco-Prussian war as a hos- 
pital surgeon. This was presented to Joseph at his 
residence, on which occasion the different lodges of 
the German Order of the Black Knights, the Hep- 
tasophs and others, numbering over eight hundred 
men, marched in procession with torches, and hon- 


233 


ored the surgeon with a grand serenade. After the 
presentation of the medal hj the Grand Master of 
the Black Knights, the Grand Chancellor of the 
Order made the following remarks : 

Da. Joseph Sharp: — We meet here this evening 
to celebrate and confer upon you the highest honors 
that can he conferred upon earth to any individual. 
You, of all the American surgeons, stand alone in 
receiving this honor ; and you alone are the only 
native American that has ever been so highly hon- 
ored by his majesty, the Emperor of Germany. We 
know that his majesty ‘does not confer such high 
honors upon any one unless he has merited it, and 
then very rarely. It must be well known to him 
that the person so rewarded had rendered most val- 
uable services to his government or subjects, for 
which he feels it his duty to confer some mark of 
distinction. And we American-Germans, once 
subjects of his majesty, feel proud, very proud, to 
enjoy this privilege in the name of the Emperor of 
Germany, to confer these honors upon a native son 
of America. In the future we and every German 
in America will ever feel proud to take you by the 
hand for the distinction you have this evening re- 
• ceived from the Emperor of our Fatherland, in 
presenting this medal in presence of so vast a mul- 
titude, who have assembled to bear you testimony 
that they appreciate the faithful services you have 
performed as a surgeon in the hospital and upon 
the field of battle, and that you have earned the 
token which I have the honor to place upon your 
20 * 


234 


breast, by saving the life's blood of many a poor 
soldier during the late war in our native land. You 
left your country, your home, your all, to cross the 
mighty ocean. The high and noble spirit which 
prompted you in that undertaking guided you in all 
your duties, and brought you into the favorable no- 
tice of every surgeon in the army, and to his majesty. 
Doctor, in conclusion, you will please accept our 
heartfelt gratitude for the services you have rendered, 
and which will be endorsed by every German in 
America. I now order three cheers for Doctor 
Sharp. 

Which being given with a will, a brother physi- 
cian, in behalf of our hero, then replied as follows : 

Gentlemen : — Allow me to return thanks on be- 
half of my medical friend for the touching senti- 
ments we have just heard expressed by your Grand 
Master and Chancellor. I know the recipient’s 
sentiments well enough to say that joy and gratitude 
at this moment swell his heart at this kindness, 
this ovation, given by you as representatives of the 
Fatherland. Had the brightest jewel from the 
golden land fallen into my friend’s hands it would 
not please him as much as does this emblem be- 
stowed by the august sovereign William as a recog- 
nition of his services in the cause he espoused in 

the dark hour,” and whose recognition he now 
highly esteems. I imagine his heart at this mo- 
ment swells with delight to know that the mighty 

ruler of millions” has seen and recognized his 
efforts and sacrifices, made not in expectation of 


235 


honors like these, hut simply to aid the right with- 
out knowing whether it would lead to sunshine or 
darkness, prosperity or adversity, trusting alone to 
the God of justice ; and now after the thunders of 
war have ceased he receives this golden token grate- 
fully, and will keep it far above all tarnishing 
influences. From my heart I thank you for the 
thrill of joy you have sent through our breasts this 
evening by your happy illustration of the fact that 
there is a contagiousness of good as well as of evil. 
As we pass down the stream of life the remembrance 
of this unexpected ovation will remain as a green 
spot in our memories as long as life endures. 

The surgeon now resumed practice under happy 
auspices and in the same office he had vacated the 
previous year. Applying himself with unremitting 
ardor to the toilsome and responsible duties of his 
noble calling and with the confidence and esteem of 
the community, Joseph had now but one drawback 
to complete happiness, and that, need we say, was 
the absence in a far-off land of his own loved Kate. 
It had been arranged at Joseph's departure from 
Europe, that Mr. Willingham and his daughter 
were to return to Maryland the following year, if 
their little means at that time would permit, and 
the union of Kate and her lover was as soon as 
practicable thereafter to take place ; and it was also 
understood that after completing the tuition of Mr. 
Wittig's children, which would require about two 
months' additional time, the father and daughter 
would during the remaining period endeavor to 


236 


y»ecure a living in Paris, where, after a long reign 
of anarchy, law and order had been once more re- 
stored. From the French capital, Kate was to 
write Josepli Sharp, furnishing their address, so 
that they might correspond henceforth hy steamer 
almost weekly, and it was this anxiously expected 
missive that the surgeon was now daily looking for 
with the absorbing interest which the heart of a 
lover only can experience. 

Meanwhile he was gratified with the reception of 
a lengthy letter from his old and sincere friend, the 
Philadelphia surgeon. Dr. Dillman, of which we 
furnish hut a brief abstract : 

Certainly if I were settled down and enjoying 
a lucrative private practice in so pleasant a city as 
Baltimore, as I know to be your good fortune, I 
should not long forego that solemn and divine duty 
of all, to humble themselves before the hymeneal 
altar. Yes, I should select one from among the 
numerous virtuous, noble-minded and whole-souled 
ladies of that city. ****** j lay great 
emphasis on the term virtuous — inasmuch as I still 
(as you doubtless well remember during our close 
intimacy in Europe) highly appreciate that noble 
attribute or inherent quality, not only in woman, 
blit man likewise ; for why in one rather than in 
the other ? It was for this feature in your character 
that I so highly appreciated your companionship 
and society during our labors and travels in Europe, 
and for this cause I went from Berlin to Hamburg 
to meet and bid you a final adieu prior to your 


237 


sailing for London. * * * * j trust you still 

entertain sufficient confidence in the virtue of our 
female population to venture to select from among 
the very largo number you may meet, some conge- 
nial mate, to clip and smooth for you the ragged 
edges of life’s stormy pathway I” * * * * 


CHAPTER XVIII. 


E must now for a brief season cross 
once more the broad Atlantic. The 
period had arrived when John 
Willingham and his child were to 
part from their valued friends, the 
Wittigs, and from the hospitable 
roof of Carlotta Moltke, beneath 
which they had passed many 
months of quiet and contentment, to 
open a new chapter in the volume of the unknown 
future. To Mr. Willingham it was a solemn 
moment, for the bitter past with its cruel lessons 
had taught him the trouble with which a stranger 
has ever to contend in procuring employ, and his 
slender means would not permit him to subsist but 
few days without it. 

Casper Wittig and his family bid adieu to the 



238 


Americans with unaffected emotion and with 
sincere wishes for their future happiness. Miss 
Willingham glanced hack with streaming eyes 
as with her father she hurried from the little 
town whose citizens had treated them with uni- 
form kindness, and her thoughts did not recover 
their usual cheerful tone till after two days of rail- 
way travel she found herself again in the splendid 
avenues of Paris. Fortunately for the travelers, 
who disliked the noise and expense of a public hotel, 
they found excellent rooms at the same house on 
the Boulevard Prince Eugene, in which they had 
formerly resided and whose hostess was much 
2)leased to welcome them hack. 

Many changes had occurred in the gay capital 
since their former visit, and desolation was the pre- 
vailing feature in many quarters, yet perfect non-- 
chalance marked the manners of its citizens who 
seemed to feel as of old, that Earth has hut one 
Paris,’' and were as ready for fun and frolic as in 
the days of Louis the Magnificent.” The soil of 
La Belle France was now destined to he that on 
which John Willingham was to receive the most 
important and gratifying intelligence of his event- 
ful career. But we must allow Kate to communicate 
this to the gentle reader in her own words : 

Boulevard Prince Eugene, No. 95. 

Paris, August 3, 18—. 

Mj Dear Betrothed : — O, how my heart bounds to communi- 
cate good news; to tell you I will soon be with the one I love 
best ! Now do not smile, for remember this is but a woman’s 
missive ; and they are so foolish. Will you not forgive me, and 


239 


I will commence aright ? But oh ! I mmt first whisper that these 
past months, spent far away from the side of my loved one, have 
been the longest of my life! Now to resume. We reached 
this gay, this beautiful metropolis July 17th, and I have delayed 
these lines a few days beyond my intention with the hope of 
saying that father was again employed, and he was becoming 
quite disconsolate at his want of success, when the day before 
yesterday he ran to me with the following notice in Galignaui’s 
Messenger: 

“If this advertisement meet the eye of John Willingham, a 
citizen of the United States, formerly a resident of Baltimore, 
Md., supposed to be now in Paris, he will confer a favor and 
hear something to his advantage by calling at the office of 
Drexel, Harges & Co., rue Scribe, No. 3.” 

Need I say how overjoyed dear father and myself were at this 
announcement. He at once sought a gentleman attached to the 
American legation here, whom he had formerly known in Lon- 
don, and in his company visited the banking house above named, 
where he was handed a letter, which on opening he found to be 
from grandfather in Baltimore, a most affecting document, (but 
too long to copy,) naming the death of his wife (father’s step- 
mother,) and urging him to return to his native city, where all 
past differences would be reconciled. A letter of credit upon 
the bankers in father’s favor for five hundred dollars to pay his 
expenses home also accompanied this ; and we are now prepar- 
ing to leave for Philadelphia in the American line steamer of the 
10th, and trust to meet one whom you know in Baltimore, not 
later than the twenty-fifth of this month. Is not that nicef In 
the short time we have been here father and myself have visited 
many places of attractive and historical interest, places rarely 
noticed by the mass of English and American travelers who 
run to this vast ancient metropolis, which is the real capital of 
Christendom, race through the halls of the Louvre or the Tuil- 
eries, promenade once or twice the fashionable Boulevard des 
Italiens, and then return home to report they have seen Park! 
Dearest, they could spend half their days in it and know but 
little of it. We devoted one day to the three leading and very 
picturesque cemeteries of Pore Lachuise, Montmartre, and Mont 


240 


Parnasse. To the great Cathedral of Notre Dame we gave 
another day ; and I wish I had talent to depict its' grandeur and 
trace an outline of its history for the fifteen hundred years its 
walls have resounded with praises of the Redeemer ! We also 
attended divine service at St. Louis, St. Gervais, St. Pierre, and 
other noble temples of God. Amongst the very beautiful envi- 
rons of the capital we have not overlooked St. Cloud, St. Denis, 
Versailles, and Vincennes, with its old stately and renowned for- 
est. Seven centuries since, Philip Augustus enclosed the forest 
with a wall, and one hundred years subsequently, St. Louis fre- 
quently administered justice under an oak in its midst ! To the 
right of the ancient palace of the French monarchs at Vincennes 
stands the powerful Donjou, once a royal residence, but since 
the time of Louis the Eleventh, used as a State prison, where 
many celebrated characters in history have been confined, includ- 
ing Henry of Navarre, the Prince of Conde, the Duke do Beau- 
fort, Cardinal Retz, Mirabeau, and the Due d’ Enghien, who 
was shot and buried at the southeast angle of the Donjou, 
March 20th, 1804. You perceive “ Cara Mia,” I have but inci- 
dentally named myself in this rambling epistle ; and is not this 
right ? How can one whose thoughts are ever with the absent 
dear one, bestow them upon herself? So, reserving for the 
happy hour in which we are so soon to meet, the privilege of 
alluding to her, so unworthy of your loye, I have now only to 
add in conclusion the name of your own Kate. 

How the heart of our hero was thrilled at the re- 
ceipt of this intelligence ; how his eyes sparkled 
with joy ; how he almost danced with ecstasy at the 
thought of so soon clasping Kate Willingham to 
his breast ; and how he pressed again and again 
the lines of the sweet girl to his lips, are fair sub- 
jects for the reader’s imagination ! We shall not 
attempt to describe them. 


CHAPTER XIX. 


Reason’s whole pleasure, all the joys of sense, 

Lie in three words — health, peace and competence. 

Pope. 


N the parlor of a princely residence on 
Linden avenue, sat a gray-haired man, 
upon whose brow the cares and anxie- 
ties of more than seventy winters had 
left indelible traces. His keen restless 
eyes were fixed upon the rich carpet of 
the apartment, whilst the fingers of his 
right hand tapped nervously the table 
at which he was seated. At length, 
after a second hurried glance at the morning jour- 
nal, which had fallen at his feet, he exclaimed in a 
low sad tone — My punishment is not yet ended ; 
and this suspense is just ! Yes, yes ! His but too 
well deserved ! Yet this delay ; why is it ? My ad- 
vices tell me that the lost one has been found, and 
that he would embark in the next steamer, and she 
is now days over due? Oh God V’ and the old man 
started from the seat and hurriedly paced the room, 
‘^Save my injured child from more misfortunes, 
and do not turn coldly from my prayers, my tears. 



242 


and my repentance ! Oh ! do not suffer me to sink 
into the grave with this great crime unpardoned, 
and with the horrors of unavailing remorse to usher 
me into the unknown future. 0 do not ! do not T* 
and he sank again to his seat, with his face buried 
in his hands. 

The slightest sorrow for sin is sufficient if it pro- 
duce amendment ; and the greatest is insufficient if 
it do not. 

The old man whom we have above introduced, 
had often promised inwardly that he would at no 
distant period make ample amendment to the one 
whom without proper inquiry he had driven from 
his home more than twenty years since. But unfor- 
tunately for the success of this intention he had 
united his destiny late in life to one ever ready to 
encourage the follies of age, as others will the vices 
of youth ; one unacquainted with the rules of de- 
corum, or the laws of morality ; one who would not 
suifer him to profit by experience, nor even to con- 
sult the propriety of a bad character ; in short, 
one who would insidiously instruct the aged mer- 
chant, that life w’as no more than a dramatic scene^ 
in which the hero should preserve his consistency to 
the last, and that as he had lived without virtue, he 
must die without repentance ! This bad adviser, 
the companion of his bosom for eighteen years, 
hoping to survive her senior partner and to inherit 
alone his ample estate, taught that self-love is the 
motive to all human actions. 

Now all actions are justly held good or evil, base 


243 


or honorable, detestable or amiable, merely accord- 
ing to their motives ; but if the motive is the same 
to all, there is an end at once to the possibility of 
virtue — the cruel and the kind, the faithful and the 
perfidious, the prostitute and the patriot are reck- 
lessly confounded together. This was the malign 
infiuence which during so long a period had, as we 
have seen, controlled the course of Richard Wil- 
lingham. His mind busily absorbed in past events, 
the merchant had not observed the sound of the 
door-bell, and it was only when the servant an- 
nounced a gentleman and lady in waiting that he 
was aroused from his reverie, and he signified they 
should be admitted. A tall and commanding look- 
ing stranger, apparently of five and forty, on whose 
arm leaned a beautiful girl attired in plain yet for- 
eign garb, entered the richly furnished drawing- 
room, and for an instant appeared as if hesitating 
to advance. But the pause was scarcely perceptible 
ere the stranger in a tone of sincere emotion cried, 
My father ! do you not know your long lost son 
and at the same moment clasped him warmly to his 
breast. A long unbroken silence ensued. The 
aged father’s frame trembled with emotion, and 
tears trickled down the furrowed countenance half 
concealed upon the arm of his noble son. The fair 
girl who had been a motionless witness of the inter- 
view, now knelt at the feet of her father and grand- 
sire (for such they were,) and gazed up with stream- 
ing eyes and clasped hands. 0, ’twas a scene 
worthy of Raphael or Vandyke ; for where does 


244 


earth afford a more lovely or touching subject than 
filial affection ? At length, he whom the reader 
has ere this recognized as John Willingham, led 
the old man gently to a lounge, and seating him 
with Kate beside him, introduced her as his daugh- 
ter and only child. The grandfather looked long 
and wistfully into the eyes, now beheld for the first 
time, as if memory were endeavoring to recall the 
features of one long since passed away ; and then 
turning to his son, he exclaimed, ^‘Yes, yes, my 
long lost, wronged and faithful hoy ! she has indeed 
the smile of your own dear sainted mother ! that 
true parent, who would have shielded you with life 
itself from the oppression of your unnatural father;'" 
and clasping his grandchild to his heart, he cried : 

‘ ‘ Let me make amends to you, my sweet child, 
while heaven spares my gray hairs, for the wrongs 
inflicted on your father !" 

Kate Willingham, whose gentle nature was 
deeply affected by these words, could only return 
thanks by a grateful smile, whilst imprinting a kiss 
on the cheek of the repentant grandsire and placing 
her hand in his. 

Addressing his son with more composure, Mr. 
Willingham said : ‘‘In my letter which reached 
you, John, at the Paris bankers, I endeavored briefly 
to explain my conduct in withdrawing my affection 
and my aid some fifteen years ago, after you had 
nobly risked your life to save my own ; and you will 
understand that your step-mother's influence, may 
her ashes rest peaceably, on that and other extraor- 


245 


cliuary occasions of your life^ was the only excuse 
of niy unworthy vacillating course toward you ; yet 
since her death I have sometimes thought that the 
engrossing, selfish nature of a mercantile career, 
had contributed to destroy my better nature — a 
curse not unusual with many business men/" 

‘^No! my honored sir,"" interrupted John Wil- 
lingham, do not offer this injustice to the enno- 
bling profession of which you are a member ; for 
surely we have constant evidence that our most 
charitable and public spirited men are recruited 
from its ranks. To a certain extent your reflections 
are just; yet nothing is truer than this, that new 
mines may be opened, dear father, and hidden trea- 
sures may be discovered ; gamesters may win cash ; 
conquerors may win kingdoms ; but all such means 
of acquiring riches are transient, while commerce 
and industry are the natural, the living, the never- 
failing fountain from whence the wealth of this 
world can alone be taught to flow."" 

Your views, my dear son,"" resumed the old 
merchant, ‘^evince sagacity and research, and I 
shall abandon the discussion, for if my experience 
enabled me to refute you the happiness of this mo- 
ment would not warrant the effort ; and now let 
me secure the only true pleasure which this life 
can longer afford me, by bestowing upon you and 
this dear child as a home, the mansion blessed by 
the event of this day ; and when God shall termi- 
nate my few remaining days you will find be- 
queathed to you the reward of my long yearsof 

20 * 


246 


application and toil ; and this which constitutes 
you sole heir, I feel is hut a poor restitution for all 
my inditference and neglect I ’ * 

‘‘My dear parent!'' exclaimed John, whilst he 
took his father's hand, and tears of gladness filled 
his eyes, “I never craved aught but your blessing 
in the long years we have lived apart ; but for my 
darling child's sake your kindness merits my grati- 
tude and my prayers which you shall ever have I" 
We shall not dilate further upon this first joyous 
interview of a reunited and happy family. The 
question has been asked, from what stranger can 
you expect attachment if you are at variance with 
your own relations? Although much latitude may 
be permitted in responding to this apparently 
natural inquiry, and many men have found their 
best friends among strangers, yet family dissension 
is ever to be deplored, and its sad consequences can 
only be realized by those who have had the unhap- 
piness to be its victims. Hence, the peculiar plea- 
sure we derive in the narration of the happy event 
just described ; and the reader will doubtless 
imagine that equal gratification filled the heart of 
Joseph Sharp, when as a delighted and welcome 
visitor at the mansion of Mr. Willingham, on the 
evening of the same day he sat with his arm encir- 
cling the waist of his long absent one, and gazing 
with rapture into her beaming and joyous counte- 
nance. And oh, love ! who can tell the grandeur 
of thy triumphs ? 


247 


“ I could have loved you— oli so well ; 

The dream that wishing boyhood knows, 

Is but a bright beguiling spell, 

Which only lives while passion glows ; 

But when this early flush declines, 

When the heart’s vivid morning fleets. 

You know not then how close it twines 
’Round the first kindred soul it meets ! 

Yes, yes, I could have loved, as one 
Who, wdiile his youth’s enchantments fall, 

Finds something dear to rest upon. 

Which pays him for the loss of all !” 

Before taking leave our liero archly remarked : 
‘‘Yet now, my little Kate, that you have become 
an heiress, will you not forget the poor surgeon of 
Saarbrucken 

But Kate Willingham, placing her hand upon 
his lips, quickly rejoined, “ Did not the poor surgeon 
give me my life ? Can I give you anything greater 
in return 

“ Only your love V 

“ You have it 

Alter this the doctor was content to let Kate 
alone. 


CHAPTEE XX. 



|kITH a constantly increasing prac- 
tice, with the blessing of health, 
I and in the prime and vigor of life, 
I with the vista of bright and useful 
years before him, Joseph Sharp, 
now that he was prepared with 
honor to lead his loved one to the 
altar, did not long delay in his ar- 
rangements for that joyous event ; 
and accordingly, ere the close of the ensuing autumn, 
Kate and the Doctor were united in marriage, and 
a happier couple are not this moment living within 
the city of monuments. 

An idol may be undeified by many accidental 
causes. Marriage in particular is a kind of counter- 
apotheosis, or a deification inverted. When a man 
becomes familiar with his goddess, she quickly sinks 
into a woman ! Happily we are unable to reproach 
our hero with this laxity of worship ; for time 
simply serves to make him cling more fondly to the 
noble girl so well deserving of his love. 

Perhaps the fair reader may desire to know the 
fate of the beautiful but haughty woman whom we 
have so long neglected to visit — Miss Lillie Ardenne. 


249 


After rejecting and wounding tlie feelings of many 
others besides our hero — who, by the way, she would 
have gladly accepted after hearing he was to mar- 
ry an heiress — the once proud belle is now prome- 
nading alone the shady path of life, with the sad 
experience of thirty odd summers rapidly withering 
her once blooming complexiop, and realizing the 
force of that quaint Latin expression : Opportu- 

nity has hair in front, behind she is bald ; if you 
seize her by the forelock you may hold her, but if 
suffered to escape, not Jupiter himself can catch her 
again V’ And now, gentle reader, we have arrived 
at that turn of the road where we must bid each 
other farewell ! But before so doing, let us venture 
the hope that many a lad of humble lineage ; many 
a man who has been doomed to carry the cross of 
existence in poverty and obscurity, may meet the 
reward which crowned the trials and triumphs of 
the farmer’s boy of Harford. 




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